


2 Horny Ghosts & the Seduction of Pansy Parkinson

by CinnamonQuartz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cultists, Drama, Dream Sex, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gentle Sex, Happy Ending, Possession, Tons of Jam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 92,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24413737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonQuartz/pseuds/CinnamonQuartz
Summary: The Jam is King. Why don't cultists understand that? A story of romance, adventure, true love, and... yep you got it... JAM.
Relationships: Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

"Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and think—How the hell do Muggles fold fitted sheets?" - _Neville Longbottom, age 25, after one too many beers_

He shook his shoulders and cracked his neck. This was it.

The day.

_The. Day._

No more being a chicken shit.

No more delays.

"No stalling, Longbottom," he said out loud. To himself. There was no one else around to hear him having a one way conversation. Just Hannah Abbott's front door. The girl he'd been trying to dump for three weeks now.

At first, to his major failing, he couldn't muster up the courage to say the words. Every time they caught in his throat like some insidious, dry crumb after a stale biscuit. Hitting just the right spot to make his entire body freeze and leave him coughing and sputtering for a glass of water.

He pushed this off to give himself time to figure out the right thing to say. Because while he figured out that he wasn't interested in a relationship with Hannah any more, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

The two of them had been through too much. They shared all their firsts with each other. First kiss. First love. First… _time_. And a whole lotta laughs.

Because Hannah was all sunshine and smiles, even when things got bad. Like during the war, and they all thought they were going to lose, she'd been his voice of hope. Always telling him how his golden brown eyes made her feel all _melty_. Falling in love had felt like the right thing at the time.

Now he just felt like an asshole.

For weeks after he finally realized what the problem was, that he didn't love her the way he used to, maybe that he never really loved her at all, he tried to find the right timing to let her know his true feelings. Surely, since he couldn't find the right words, he could at the very least find the right time.

But that proved twice as difficult. What was he supposed to do? _Hey, Hannah Banana, thanks for dinner, by the way, I think we should break up._

Oh Why?

"Because I'm an asshole," he shook himself again. "One who needs to grow a pair."

It wasn't fair to continue the relationship when he wasn't feeling the same, so he dug deep, and managed to knock on the door. Finally.

Before he could even contemplate what to say, it swung open revealing Hannah. His sunny Hannah Banana.

Weeping.

Being not so sunny.

Her big, lovely brown eyes were wet with tears as she sobbed into an already very soggy handkerchief.

"Hannah?!"

She nearly ran him over as she fell into his arms. "Oh Nev!"

"Sweetheart, what happened?"

"My-my-my-"

"Shh," her tears crushed him. He was rubbish around crying women. Especially Hannah. He toed the door shut behind him and scooped her up into his arms. "Cry it out, baby."

He carried her through the tiny house to her bedroom on the first floor, setting her gently on the frilly white blanket she kept over her bed. He gingerly took the sopping wet handkerchief from her and winced. Eww.

Apparently she'd been crying for awhile.

"Baby, I'm going to get you some water, okay? Just stay here and take deep breaths okay?"

He returned only a minute later, water in hand, and a box of tissues in the other. It seemed she'd calm down a bit, not much, but enough that she could drink deeply from the glass. "Better? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she sniffled, voice squeaking. "I feel silly. It's… my… Bixxy…"

"Bixxy, your rabbit?" he wanted to make sure.

"He died," a hiccup. "I've had him since 6th year, since right after… right after…"

Oh.

"Aww honey," he pulled her for a hug, her wet face pressing into his neck as she began to sob again. "You got him after your mum passed?"

A frantic, snot filled nod. "Hey," he continued gently. "He was a great rabbit. Perfect ears, two big front teeth, soft white fur."

"Friendly and he liked to hop around," she added between hiccups, eyes lighting up with the good memories of her precious pet.

"And his little nose would twitch when you pet him," he backed up his words by petting her hair, the straight blonde strands stopping just short of her shoulders. "He was a happy rabbit, I promise."

"Yeah," she leaned up, with a small smile. "Thanks for making me feel better."

"Anytime Hannah Banana," except - aw hell - he was supposed to be breaking up with her! No way he could now though? Could he? Break up with her after her pet died, after finding her sobbing her eyes out. Oh no.

She wiggled off his lap and went to clean up in the bathroom, leaving him to panic. He heard the water running and wondered if he should just move out of the country. Where was far enough away he wouldn't feel like the biggest jerk on the planet? Could he survive on Antarctica?

Hannah returned, face scrubbed red and hair slicked back. "Will you stay tonight?" she asked, looking hopeful. Looking _needy_.

Yep. He was the biggest asshole. His mouth moving without his permission. "Of course, of course honey."

"Will you…" she wiped at her face nervously, her voice becoming breathy. "Take me away?"

He gulped. Was there another level of being an asshole he hadn't discovered yet? What was worse than an asshole? Douche bag. Prick? Had he entered the realm of stealing candy from babies yet?

Scum.

"Please, Nevvy? I want to be distracted right now," her smile turned shy, a little coy. Her fingers danced up to her chest, pulling on the top button of her sweater. Her intentions could not have been clearer.

"Distracted, huh?" he gulped again nervously.

Scum of the earth. WAY past stealing candy and straight into pushing old ladies in front of a bus. He bit his lip. _Hannah, I came here to break up with you._

Just say it.

"Hannah…" he shook his head while wetting his lips. "Where do you wanna go, baby?"

He leaned back on the bed as she crawled over him, pulling the button on his jeans. "Just somewhere else, take me somewhere else."

Giving in, he pushed everything else away and focused totally on her. They taught each other how to become lovers. He knew every inch of her. Knew all the tickle spots, all the places that made her gasp, knew the dips and curves of her skin.

Flipping them over, he slowly, with great intention, began undressing her. Pulling each button loose on her shirt before pushing the cotton fabric over her shoulders, wondering where he should take her.

"You're on a snowy mountain," he said in a low voice, pressing kisses down the curve of her neck at the same time he pushed up the silk of the cami she wore underneath her button up. The mountain cabin scene the first thing he could think of. "There's a roaring fire though, to keep you warm…"

Fingers spread across her ribs and he dug his thumbs into the underside of her breasts, the silk an intimate barrier. With his other hand he ventured south and began working on her own jeans. "You're on vacation," he said against her neck.

"Oh vacation," she moaned. "Yes, please."

She wanted distraction? She wanted to play their favorite sex game?

He could do that...


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm scared and uncertain all the time, but damn it Mattie, if I die, I'm going out making jam." - _Pansy Parkinson, age 26, suggestively wiggling a pair lemons at her bodyguard._

Pansy Parkinson pushed her dark bangs out of her face as she made eggs and toast for herself and her bodyguard, Gerald 'Gerry' Kessler. A mountain of a man with Nordic ancestry that made him perfectly apt at _looming_ threateningly.

A perfect quality for a bodyguard, in Pansy's humble opinion.

Even better, he had the kind of eyes that saw everything, took everything in, without missing a beat. Hawk eyes. It made her feel safe from the moment she hired him at age 18, fingers still recovering after turning to stone.

Gerry stood tall and silently by her back door, a double wide sliding glass that looked out into her heavily shaded and fenced in backyard. The glass was a lie. Nothing like what she worked with on a daily basis, nothing like what she created. But while it looked like everyday regular glass, they were in fact more solid and durable than steel plates.

Steel plates magicked to be indestructible. Nothing, magic or mundane, could penetrate those windows. The front door, guarded by her other bodyguard, Wayne Fry, had the same protections. As did all her stained glass.

Nothing but the best, or so the contractor had assured her. A word he used abundantly and with great zeal for her benefit.

The glass? The best. The spellwork? The best. The labor? _The best!_

Well, it better be the best, because she shelled out a hellish amount of gold for the work to be done.

"Just keep me safe," she muttered under her breath as she pulled out the homemade jar of blackberry jam from her cupboard.

"What's that boss?" Gerry asked her from across the kitchen, his voice deep and gruff. She often wondered if that was standard for all bodyguards. Tall. Mean looking. Rough sounding voice.

The ability to loom.

"Nothing," she smiled to reassure him. "Jam or butter?"

"Is that the homemade stuff you like to make?"

"Possibly," she teased, but happy to feed her bodyguards. Sure, she paid them massive amounts of money to watch and protect her and her home, but that didn't mean they weren't friends. Pansy had grown quite close all three of her guards over the years.

"Definitely jam then," Gerry didn't smile but she heard the tiniest hint of warmth in his voice. It was good enough.

She wasn't the type that needed gentling. Too much had happened since she left school years ago, and sad as it was, she didn't much trust a smiling face like she used to.

Wayne came from the foyer into her open kitchen, checking the windows that lined the entirety of that side of the house as he did, before sitting down at the marbled island in the middle of the room. "I heard jam, did you make another batch? My wife loves the stuff."

"Yes, another batch. Would you prefer that or butter?"

"Is that even a question?"

A bit taller than Gerry, Wayne hailed from across the ocean, his Latin American mixed with the American South accent romantic to her ears. He paused by the island, practically casting a shadow across her stove top.

"Yes, blackberries are in season. I picked them from my garden," she informed them both as she pulled her wand out and sent three plates and three sets of silverware to the bar stools at the island while she checked on the eggs.

They sizzled pleasantly in their butter, smelling of breakfast as the sun streamed into the room from the plethora of windows in her home. Over the stove the light danced with reds and blues and golds from the stained glass window she constructed years ago. Shifting glass plates created a garden of flowers with sunbursts that pulsed gently between. Whenever a panic attack came on, she would breathe in time with the slow expansion of the golden bursts and releasing the breath as it disappeared.

It had cost an arm and a leg to get the same magical glass in those giant windows, but worth it.

She lived like a prisoner, but that didn't mean she wanted to feel like one.


	3. Chapter 3

"Everyone calls me brave, but truth is, I'm just too stupid to know better." - _Neville, age 21, to Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones right before he bungee jumped off a cliff._

The next day, Neville flopped down at the kitchen table at his best friend's house and groaned. Loudly. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can," Susan patted his head affectionately. Ginny was there too, going over paperwork with Hermione. They were less encouraging.

"You still haven't told her?" Ginny glared over a tall stack of papers. Harry and Ginny were buying a house, which, he guessed, required a lot of paperwork. He wouldn't know, his Gran remarried quite suddenly last year, leaving him alone at Longbottom Keep.

"No," he admitted, his gut rolling in misery. He hadn't told Hannah he wanted to break up. Instead he slept with her. Twice. Because of her damn rabbit.

A _rabbit_. "Honestly," he groaned again. "Why is it so hard to break up with someone?"

"It's not," Ginny's voice was stern and judgmental. "Harry broke up with me at a funeral, if he can do that, you can tell Hannah to shove it."

He deserved it, much as her scorn burned. "Don't talk so poorly about her," he felt the need to defend Hannah rise up despite his true feelings. He just wanted... what the hell did he want? He didn't know.

His whole life he had no idea. Everyone assumed he would go into the Auror program after school, especially after all he did in 7th year. And when he said everyone, he meant _everyone_. When he corrected that false assumption, it seemed as if he betrayed the entire community some how. For nearly three months after it came out he rejected the position at the program, he got confused looks everywhere he went. The general consensus that he had totally bombed his entire life.

But none had taken it harder than his Gran.

Hannah had been the only one on his side. And now he was trying to leave her. What was the matter with him?! Why wasn't he in love with her? Hannah was all sweet smiles and high heels and sunshine.

Safe. And happy.

He was the idiot for not finding that good enough. Why he wasn't madly in love with someone as perfect as Hannah Abbott was beyond him.

"It can be," Hermione argued then, turning the page of her loaded documents. "He wants to tell her the truth, but not hurt her. He can't do one without the other, thus the difficulty."

Ginny made a grumpy sound, but Susan said, "And the longer he waits to tell her, the more hurt Hannah will be when she finds out. And the more hurt Hannah is, the more suffering Neville will go through for it. Once he figures that bit out, he might just do something about it."

He hated how upbeat she sounded. " _Ugh_."

"See?" Susan smiled, as if enjoying his pain. "Suffering."

"What happened this time, Nev?"

He sat up, looked Hermione right in the eye, winced, and said, "I slept with her."

Goddesses, he could practically feel their disgust. She rolled up her newspaper and swatted him on the side of his head. THREE TIMES. "You-complete-jerk! Neville!"

"Slept with her?" Ginny's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Yeah, her rabbit died, and she was upset-" he tried to explain, dodging Hermione's smacks. He wasn't a damn fly.

"So you slept with her?" she interrupted, eyes going even wider with disbelief.

"She didn't want to be alone! What was I supposed to do? Break up with her right after her pet died? She was already crying and upset, she asked me to stay! What else was I supposed to do?"

_"Break up with her!"_ all three of his friends shouted. At once. In a 'duh' sort of way.

"Even the good ones are jerks," Ginny rolled her eyes and stood from the table. "C'mon Hermione, let's finish this at my mum's."

They packed up in a rush. Hermione patted him on the head on their way out, gave him a sad smile. But Susan reheated his tea before taking the seat right next to him. "I know you don't want to hurt her, Nev. I know you're not trying to be a jerk. But surely you must realize that no matter what you do, feelings are going to be hurt. You two have been together since right after 7th year, ending a relationship that's lasted so long is tough business. The longer you wait, the more it's going to hurt her."

His forehead came down and thumped harshly into the table. Again. "I'm just going to snap my wand and move to Alaska. Live in the woods. Acquire a pet bear."

"You will not," Susan snapped with authority. "You are far too brave to run from your problems, Neville Longbottom."

Brave? Hardly. He felt like the biggest coward.

"I'll lose you in the divorce," he groaned, realizing yet another ramification of breaking up with Hannah. Their group of friends would what? Split in two? Who would go with who? "You'll definitely stick with her over me."

And he didn't want to lose his friendship with either Susan or Hannah.

"I can be friends with both of you if I want, and guess what? I want. But please stop delaying, Nev. I can only feel so bad for you before I start thinking you're only another typical jerk of a boyfriend."

While she went about setting up for her work as a curse breaker, Neville decided to do something he hadn't done since 7th year. He imagined the Altar of Circe, and prayed. Prayed for the kind of love that would satisfy him. The kind that burned him all up from the inside. Prayed for answers and the strength to carry them out.

"Okay," he sat up and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. "Okay, I'm going over there. I'm going to sit her down and tell her I want to break up. No more distractions. I don't care _what_ happens."


	4. Chapter 4

"I pray to Antheia because that's who my mother prayed to. I didn't know my mum, but maybe Antheia did." - _Pansy, age 18, to her bodyguard Gerry._

Pansy worked all morning before turning on the attic fan in her workshop with copper stained fingers. But her current project was nearly finished and she thought the client would be satisfied with the final result.

She opened the door to let the room air out, surprised to see the clock read much later in the afternoon than she expected. Making stained glass was a dirty business, but good art required getting a little messy. Required the time and effort.

Using magic to cut the glass and frame didn't produce the same results as doing it by hand, she found. When she started her craft, she used her wand to mix the paint, to cut the glass, to outfit the frame. But something always seemed missing, something she assumed came with experience she didn't have yet.

So she tried again, and again. Until her school friend Daphne Greengrass suggested it would be easier to get the little details Pansy wanted if she used her hands instead of magic. Sure it might take longer, way longer.

But Pansy had always been a real loser at witchcraft. There were a few charms she mastered during school, enough to get by, enough to _prove_ she was born a witch. But anything tougher than 3rd year? Forget about it.

Over the years she realized it wasn't the inexperience that messed up the details of her art, but her pathetic magic. Well, what had magic ever done for her? Nothing but cause trouble and get her _into_ trouble. So she chose art.

She did it by hand.

And when the work was completed, she used a simple Animation Spell to bring it to life.

At her work sink, she used a scrubber and hot water to wash her hands before taking off her apron, curious to what she would make for dinner. Crafting and cooking for the guards were the only things that occupied her days.

Lately, her main goal was perfecting her saffron sauce. Too much lime ruined the flavor of the saffron. Not enough made it imbalanced. But a lick of confidence had her feeling like she would figure it out soon enough.

With visions of limes and stained glass dancing in her head, she made her way to the kitchen to refill her water and somehow missed Gerry completely. "Ms. Parkinson?"

She startled. "Oh my Goddess, you scared me Ger."

"Apologies, you had a package arrive this morning," he told her using his professional voice. Like always. He was never _not_ professional around her.

She swallowed, and attempted to find breath. A package. She wasn't expecting any supplies, but it had been exactly six weeks and three days since the last attempt to mess up her life. "I see," she followed him out of the kitchen after smoothing out her rumpled and stained floral printed dress. Looking for calmness. "Is it safe?"

"I believe so," Gerry led her into the front foyer where a simple brown package waited. "Was waiting for you to finish your work to open it."

"Very well, let's have a look then."

Unexpected packages always sent her into a bit of a tizzy, and why wouldn't they? More than half the time they were sent to her detriment, poisoned trinkets and cursed objects the usual. Twice there were creatures. Deadly creatures.

She scratched at her scar nervously.

But this package, when Gerry led her to the entryway table, looked too small to hold the Fire Spitting Beetle that had been illegally mailed to her last time. "I ran all the usual tests, nothing so far."

"Go ahead and open it if you feel it's safe to do so," she told him standing as far back as possible. She didn't _want_ to be scared, hiding behind her big, burly bodyguard, but some things are just ingrained.

He pulled out his wand and used magic to slowly lift the lip of the plain white box. "It's a necklace," he told her after a tense moment. "And a note."

Wand waving through the air with an expert skill she distinctly lacked, he performed several tests before taking the note into his hand first. Slowly unfolding the paper with great caution and then... "I believe it's safe, Ms. Parkinson."

He handed her the parchment with a nod and she quickly read the cursive script. "Oh, it's from Mrs. Grant," she breathed a sigh of relief.

A client. A _satisfied_ client. She looked up and watched the necklace-no it was a bracelet-float mid air as Gerry examined it for curses.

"She wanted to show her appreciation for the window I did," Pansy found herself smiling wide. She adored working on the intricate design of swans on a pond for Mrs. Grant's massive living room window, even if it took nearly a month of work.

But once completed, the swans lazily floated across the pond, the glass shifting as if a breeze blew across the calm water surface. It was one of her best pieces.

More she could get used to packages like this. The bracelet, now that she had the confidence to touch it, wasn't beautiful in the standard sense. But the gold and silver links had a shine that caught the eye.

"May I?" Gerry asked, and again she heard that warmth in his voice, though his face remained passive. He meant to hook the bracelet for her.

What a sweetheart.

"Please, then I'll make us dinner," Pansy held out her wrist and allowed him to place the dangling jewelry around her delicate wrist even though she still had copper and paint dusted into her skin.

"Nothing array?" he asked. Protecting her, as she paid him to do.

"Feels like a normal bracelet," she held it up to the light and tried to recapture the shine. "It's pretty."


	5. Chapter 5

"Life's certainties: Death. Taxes. And _cookies." - Neville Longbottom, age 23, to Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones._

The shiny bracelet clicked into place over his wrist and he felt his stomach drop. It was _Ugly_. Repulsive. Some gaudy looking thing made of silver and gold links. "Uh - Hannah -"

"I've been wanting to give this to you for some time now! But you were so sweet to me yesterday I just knew it would be the best thank you gift!" She bounced around after putting the bracelet on his right wrist, hyperactive and full of energy. She had music on in the background, cooking dinner.

"Hannah," he began. Stopped. What the _hell_ was he supposed to say after this?

This felt worse than the rabbit.

Now she was giving him _jewelry_!?

"Hannah -"

"I mean, I knew I could count on you, you're so reliable. You're always so sweet to me, Nev. I just can't believe how upset I was! I feel a lot better today." Not only did she have the stove going, she also seemed to be cleaning. Her hands moving a mile a minute. Too hyped up, he realized. To make up for her slump yesterday. He was going to bring her to a crashing halt.

But he simply couldn't stall anymore. "Hannah, I -"

"I found it at that thrift shop, the one down Diagon-"

" _Hannah!_ "

She screeched to a halt in front of him, her arms full of laundry. "Oh sorry, baby," she grinned. Was she truly oblivious to his real feelings? "I feel on top of the world today."

And he was the bottom feeder that would rip the rug out from under her. "Hannah, we have to talk."

Finally. He got the words out. All 5 miserable, life changing words. _"I want to break up."_

That night, as he lay in bed, pathetic and alone, he tried to forget how he went from comforting Hannah to being the cause of her anguish in one night. A complete turn around that left him feeling beyond confused.

But he couldn't quite get it out of his head. There wasn't any yelling. She didn't cry.

He told her he wanted to break up and she just looked _sad_. Didn't say anything, do anything. Until she asked him to leave in a quiet little voice that sounded nothing like what she normally did.

And that was far, far worse than anything he expected.

Nothing would ever be the same after this.

He turned over, punched his pillow into a different position, and went back to fidgeting with the bracelet still around his wrist. He couldn't get the damn clasp undone, no matter what he did.

Hannah had snapped it on him before he could even say a word. That word being he wanted to break up their six year long relationship. He needed two hands to undo the clasp.

Groaning, he rolled over. "Get it together, Longbottom," he whispered, grabbing his wand from his bedside table. He reminded himself, "I'm capable of great magic."

_If you say so, chump._

"And my inner voice is slowly turning against me," he waved his wand and tapped the bracelet. It glowed, giving him a moment of hope that the bracelet would fall off his wrist and he could stash it away in his dresser never to be seen again.

The silver and gold links would only serve as a reminder of the day he broke up with his Hannah Banana. As necessary as it was, it still hurt. He could only imagine how horrible he made _her_ feel.

But the soft white glowing went away and the bracelet remained around his wrist, clinking gently as he moved. "Why won't you _come off_?"

Just what he needed. A _permanent_ reminder of the day he broke up with his Hannah Banana!

_But she isn't yours._

"Right," he told himself. He wasn't in love with her, and that wasn't her fault. It was his. His fault, for wanting more out of their relationship. Wanting things Hannah couldn't give him. Wanting some perfect woman who probably didn't exist.

He pushed the blankets off his legs and stood up, turning on the light. If magic couldn't get this thing off, maybe something more mundane could. Like a hammer. He had one. Surprisingly. His Uncle Algie had given it to him as a gag gift.

Like a maniac, he stalked through his dark hallway to the back storage room where he kept his odds and ends. Began digging through old school supplies and unused garden tools, stacked clay pots, and his Gran's old potion vial collection.

Why she unloaded the massive amount of glass on him when she moved in with Erasmus, he would never understand.

Him and potions weren't exactly on the best of terms. Neither were him and Ginny. She was downright pissed off with him for the way he handled the situation with Hannah. Again, he couldn't blame her. But the cold shoulder seemed a bit much. Hermione was busy with her house and Susan was busy with work, and he suspected, probably comforting Hannah. They were, after all, friends first.

He missed Luna.

"Aha!" he held up the hammer in victory. "I knew I had one! Now… how do I … use this thing?"

 _Idiot_ , he thought to himself for the millionth time and threw the hammer back into the closet without a care. He heard a hard thump followed by glass shattering, but that was life. Things broke. Sometimes… you had to break things.

He finally fell asleep around the time the sun started coming up. And immediately fell into one of the most intense sex dreams he ever had the pleasure of having in his life.

Vivid and real, it seemed as if he actually lived through the dream.

Stranger still, he was halfway lucid for it, but couldn't quite pull himself into full wakefulness. But then, by the time he realized how lucid he was, he didn't want to wake up. Not when he was buried inside a soft woman, one who fit perfectly in his arms, her legs locked around his waist.

One who smelled like a citrus garden and paint.

"My wife," he mumbled into her neck…

Right before he jerked awake with a scream.


	6. Chapter 6

"I don't date, how would I explain myself without dying of embarrassment? Bonus, I might still die." - _Pansy, age 24, to her bodyguard Mattie over two scones, a jar of jam, and a bucket of glass shards._

Pansy rolled over, sweaty and uncomfortably warm, a pillow between her legs. Kind of feeling mad. The sunlight filtered in through the stained glass window above her bed, making the cream of her sheets dance with a river of greens.

Pretty, as always, but not pretty enough to keep her from kicking those sheets off with a frustrated grunt. What the hell was that? Another sex dream?

What was she? A horny 16 year old again? It was fading with every passing second, but Pansy couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. _Old_ familiarity, as if she'd done the same exact thing before. But that was impossible.

She'd never done… any _thing_ of the sort… with any _one_ before.

_It's been 50 years_ , she thought to herself, and that made even less sense than the heady, intimate dreams keeping her up all night and forcing her to change her sheets daily. Chalking it up to lack of any real sleep, the night spent tossing and turning, she rolled out of bed and stumbled haphazardly to her bathroom.

The anger not fading as the dream did, for it wasn't the first time that week she had such a dream. In fact, nearly every night since she made saffron sauce for Gerry she dreamt of a man she called _husband_.

Nearly three weeks ago!

Husband, who whispered words both sweet and dirty into her ear, who touched with confident, calloused hands that knew her far better than anyone did. But she could never catch a glimpse of his face, despite their intimacy, despite their closeness. She couldn't see the face of the man who made her feel things she knew she had no business feeling.

No precedence for feeling.

And that, that made her downright pissed off. She had the right to experience such things for the first time. On her own terms. Instead, her overactive imagination and unconscious mind had her body tingling as if she spent the night in the arms of a perfect lover, one made especially for her and only her.

Her thighs felt… but it was impossible, surely. She curiously checked the skin on her inner thighs, finding it rubbed raw and rough. Anger turned to fear in a flash, her head spinning at the implications.

Frantically, she rechecked the skin, running her fingers over the skin and finding it smooth and unblemished. She stepped her opposite foot up onto the edge of her bathroom counter, checking the mirror. Milky white skin unmarked by anything except her red colored birthmark she had for as long as she could remember.

The fear faded. Her mind was messing with her big time.

Pansy decided right then she would take the morning off and brew up some Dreamless Sleep Potions. She hadn't brewed in sometime and the prospect of doing something new, something proactive, finally eased the anger from her face.

She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror as she made her decision, looking as tired as she felt, paler than she should be, her dark hair hanging limp by her shoulders. A little voice in her head whispered, _Honey, you look deader than I do._

"I'm going nuts," she shook her head as if it would rid her mind of the strange thought. And admitted the real problem.

Stir crazy. How long had it been since she left her home? Weeks.

No.

Months. A couple of them at the very least.

She would have to leave the house to get the necessary potion ingredients, and Pansy wasn't sure she could.


	7. Chapter 7

"Do or die? What about, I don't know, take a nap and try again later?" - _Neville, age 17, to Professor Amycus Carrow's ugly face._

Ginny pulled the blinds up with a whip of sound, allowing far too much sunlight into his bedroom.

"Ugh, Gin no!" Neville rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head, trying to hold onto the dream that was rapidly fading into forgotten memory.

"Time to rejoin the world, you recluse," she said sourly, pulling on his comforter.

He got the edge with one hand, trying to keep it over his head. Sunlight. _Bad._

"Ginny, stop it. I'm trying to sleep!"

But she had always been strong for her size and she managed to wiggle it from his grasp and throw it into the corner. "Sweet Pygmy Puff, it smells like a dirty sock in here, Nev. When is the last time you cleaned this place?"

He threw an elbow over his eyes and lay on the bed. In misery. "Leave me alone."

"I will not," she insisted. "I'll be back every day, raining sunshine on your pity parade until you're so miserable you have to rejoin the world of the living."

There were worse threats. He rolled over. "See you tomorrow then."

He heard her growl of frustration, felt the bed shove a bit, and then she was laying next to him.

A sniff.

" _Ueewwwgghh_! Nev, you need a shower. You are _ripe_. There's crumbs in your beard, good lord!"

"Don't like it? Leave," he repeated, a bit harder. Last night, Hannah had dropped off a box of his stuff he'd left at her place, and by 'dropped off' he meant she threw it through the Floo so hard most of his possessions broke on impact.

And the crying. She'd been crying as she yelled at him from the other side, blaming him for ruining both their lives. For breaking her heart. For leading her on for years. All true, and yet somehow, he wanted to yell back.

And never had he wanted to yell at Hannah like that before. Oh, but he wanted to.

To remind her that he was suffering too, that he only wanted to be honest about his feelings and felt like she didn't give two lollipop licks about it. What was he supposed to do? Lie? Keep pretending? He didn't expect her to be happy about their breakup, but surely she could understand _why_?

"This whole place is a disaster. Your fireplace has a bunch of broken glass and your sink is full of dirty dishes, Nev. When is the last time you left the house or ate something that didn't come in a take out box?" Ginny asked, sounding concerned instead of ticked off. Maybe she was done being angry with him, now that she could see the end result.

He would die, miserable and alone, for his crimes against women.

_Good grief, kids these days are too emotional._

The sudden, erratic thought had him groaning. It was his voice, his mind. But it wasn't _him_. It wasn't the first time his mind whispered to him, as if in conversation, and he didn't think it would be the last, but a part of his brain had really gone off the deep end of the Black Lake and sunk into the Mermaid Forests.

Maybe he was insane.

After the war, Hermione dragged him and a bunch of their friends into group therapy. To talk about what happened during 7th year and not let any feelings fester. He learned about something called PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Some Healer from St. Mungo's said he was in the clear, but in some cases it took time before symptoms showed up.

It seemed his time was up.

Developing another personality in his head to talk to himself was right up there on the loony scale, he didn't have to be a healer to know that. He could check himself into the permanent ward right alongside his parents. "Janus Thickey here I come."

Gin was silent for a few moments before she shoved him. Hard. "Neville, what the hell is your deal? You are the one who broke up with Hannah, why are you moping around and talking crazy talk?"

"I don't know, damnit. I feel horrible. Crushed. Even though I'm the one who did the crushing, I never said it made sense but that's how I feel. I keep having these dreams…"

"Dreams?"

He finally lowered his elbow and turned on his side, facing his friend. She looked better than he felt, awake for one. Damn, but he felt tired, not recalling the last time he got a full night's worth of sleep. The sunlight didn't help, a migraine forming right behind the eyes. "Yes, they keep me up all night and I can't get any rest. It's the guilt isn't it? But I know I did the right thing, so why do I feel so rotten?"

"Why don't we go get some potion supplies and brew up a batch of Dreamless Sleep? Just a few, to help you get some shut eye. You'll feel better once you've had a full 8 hours," she nudged him in shoulder, far more gently than her earlier shove.

"I'll buy, you brew?" Nev suggested hopefully.

Because if he had to pull out his old potion texts and notes to try to remember the Dreamless Sleep Potion lesson from 3rd year, then he really might check himself into St. Mungo's for good.


	8. Chapter 8

"I only know how to do two things, okay? Jam and stained glass. Anything else and you're asking for a miracle, buddy." - _Pansy, yesterday, to Wayne as he fixed her leaky faucet._

Pansy chickened out. Made a batch of oatmeal and cranberry cookies. Ate three in a row hot off the oven sheet even as her hips groaned in protest. Then decided not to be a giant scaredy-cat and go to the damn potion supply shop. She desperately needed a good night's rest, otherwise she'd be just as distracted and off balance tomorrow as she was today.

More so even.

And while her chosen profession had provided her with a very comfortable financial situation and the ability to have her own schedule, she still had a job to do. She had guards to pay and a house to keep. No money meant no guards meant _death_. What was she going to do? Defend _herself_? Ha. Unlikely.

Except she could only get one shoe on as Matt watched from her guard stance at the front door. Mattie Prendergast, the third guard, was the kind of witch that wore torn up jeans and beat up leather boots. Pansy's height, just over 5 foot tall, with wild curly brown hair she kept out of her face with bright ribbons and headbands. Today it was a vibrant blue.

She often twirled her short 6 inch Black Ash wand between her fingers, leaning against the door frame as she watched the yard for movement. For trespassers who could hold a grudge like no one's business.

She was also the most vocal of Pansy's guards. The filter between Mattie's brain and mouth almost nonexistent. "Pathetic," she mumbled, popping a piece of gum into her mouth.

Mattie was currently attempting to quit smoking. It made her short tempered but weirdly Pansy hadn't noticed a huge difference in her attitude...

"I'm not," Pansy insisted, her foot bobbing up and down anxiously, waiting to be shoe'd properly. It shouldn't have been so difficult! "I'm perfectly capable of going shopping."

She was an expert shopper... With mail order.

Mattie blew a bright pink bubble, popped it between perfectly straight and white teeth, and rolled her eyes in Pansy's direction. "You haven't left the house since February 18th. To meet with your accountant."

Disbelief had Pansy stomping her feet, one booted, the other barefoot. "That is such a lie, Matt!"

February was five months in the past, summer currently in full bloom. And, Pansy insisted to herself, she'd most certainly left her home sometime during that period. Right? Surely... "I went to that party," she informed Mattie with confidence. "At Malfoy Manor."

"That was last _Christmas Eve_ ," Mattie rolled her eyes again, the action bringing attention to her high, dark cheeks. "But I'm not here to judge, just keep the psycho Brotherhood cray-crays off your front lawn."

Face screwed up, Pansy didn't know exactly what a 'cray-cray' was supposed to be, but she maybe, possibly, sort of, recalled the spiked eggnog at Draco's Christmas party. "Huh… Oh bother!"

Standing up, she kicked off her other boot and bee-lined back into the kitchen. Cookie number four was happening, hips be damned. She called out to Mattie, "I'm only a bit tired. I'll go tomorrow."

"Sure," she heard Mattie call back, voice indifferent. "It's Ger's shift anyways, he always gives into your simpering."

Ugh! "I do not _simper_!" She whirled around to look at herself in the large mirror that hung over her herb rack. Pansy always had a thing about natural light, the mirrors were simply tools to maximize the effect.

And, much to her misfortune, she found her reflection smiling shyly, silver eyes wide, looking a bit unhinged. Simpering, perhaps… maniacally.

She was officially insane. "I don't," she stated stubbornly, grabbing a cookie with her fingers.

_Oh honey, is denial your middle name?_

"No, it's Apronia," she told herself. Out loud.

"What's that, boss?" Mattie called, appearing a moment later at the wide doorway that led into the kitchen.

"Nothing, just, going a bit loony lately," Pansy purposely simpered towards Mattie, making sure she saw the sarcasm.

Mattie responded in kind.

"Hey," Pansy wondered. "Have you ever… do you ever…"

"Oh, spit it out why don't you?"

"Do you ever have conversations with yourself?"

Because Pansy did… a lot more lately than ever before. And for some unknown reason, her thoughts had taken to calling her 'honey' and 'darling' and 'sweetheart'. Three endearments she'd never enjoyed before and that most certainly did not apply to her personality in any shape or form.

"Everyone does. No worries though, you're definitely crazy. Don't have to ask twice."

Mattie made it perfectly clear, on several different occasions, that she thought Pansy downright nutso for her reclusiveness. However, Pansy's confinement was completely necessary. The Brotherhood of the Chosen might have been reticent a group in the past, but their numbers were growing every day. Their desire to remain a secret less and less as they gained followers.

"You know, I'm going to give you the rest of these," Pansy gestured to the sugary overload that was the oatmeal and cranberry cookies. "You clearly need something to alleviate your sour mood."

"Whatever, boss." Mattie shrugged, twirled her wand. "I guess one might say your baking has improved over the years, but we both know I'm only here for the jam."

With a cry of sheer frustration, Pansy turned around and snatched up her boots. She needed rest. Mattie needed a smoke. She preferred the former over the latter. If Pansy wanted a less hostile conversation with her bodyguard, she would need a night of _sleep_.

Not tossing and turning.

 _Not_ dreaming of a lover whose face remained unknown to her.

Sleep! She needed sleep!

"Let's just get this over with."


	9. Chapter 9

"There's not much I wouldn't do for a bar of chocolate, except give up my bar of chocolate." - _Neville, at least 100 times, mostly to Hannah when they got drunk and hungry._

Ginny led him through the potion supply shop on the south end of Diagon Alley. Her mood much improved, and Neville had the sneaking suspicion it had mostly to do with his shower and not that he actually left the house. Even he had to admit how overdue that scrub had been.

But the thought made him laugh aloud. "I'm a real mess, Gin."

"I know, Nevvy," she said, studying her list carefully.

Hermione sent over the list of necessary potion ingredients at Ginny's request along with instructions on how to brew the Dreamless Sleep Potion. If done correctly, it would give him several doses. More than enough to get a few night's worth of sleep out of.

He felt hopeful for the first time in nearly a week. But that hope was a bare flicker compared to the dread that he might run into Hannah on this little trip to Diagon Alley. The guilt ramped up the moment he stepped through the Floo at The Leaky.

The pub and inn their old stomping grounds. Always meeting up for a drink or two, and seeing where the night would take them. They'd either wander into Diagon Alley for dessert. Ice cream at Florean Fortescue's or down to Tilly's for tea cakes and coffee. Over to Divina's, a renowned chocolate shop. Or, if they were feeling particularly brave, or had enough to drink, they would go the opposite way. Into Muggle London and unknown territory.

It felt wrong to be there without Hannah. Even in this potion supply shop he hadn't set foot in since his old school days. The unbreakable bracelet around his wrist felt twice as heavy. Was he missing her?

_Of course you miss your wife, idiot._

Wife!?

Hannah wasn't his wife. He couldn't marry her, Neville knew. He'd known it for years. The subject had come up several times with his closest of friends. They all wondered if Hannah was the one for him, and every time the question came around, he started itching uncomfortably.

His excuse - it was too soon. He wasn't ready for marriage. Wasn't ready to commit to Hannah on such a grand level. Usually a trip followed those occasions. Now he realized, far, far too late, that it wasn't a commitment thing. It was a love thing.

"Hello? Earth to Neville, can you hear me?"

"What?" Neville startled, realizing Ginny stood quite close and looked ticked off again. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

Caught under her scrutinizing stare, Neville resisted the urge to squirm, though he was much taller than her. She stepped forward and looked up at him, a combination of worry and suspicion on her freckled face. "Nev…?" she started.

"Uh, yes Gin?" His eyes went wide, refusing to blink. To back down.

"Your eyes looked different for a second," she said softly, as if not believing what she saw. "Darker..."

And how was he supposed to respond, not having a clue to what she was talking about? He rubbed his face, stressed out. "I'm just tired and I need to get out of here."

"Forget it, I have all the ingredients you need. Let's pay and get you home."

Sounded like the best idea to him. He wasn't sure he could spend another moment in Diagon Alley, that uncomfortable itch coming back to make his already spinning head and his uncontrollable thoughts twice as bad.

Side by side, they walked out of the narrow aisle and a big crash happened. Later, Neville was able to put the series of events in order. First Ginny turned when they passed the shelf and ran into a dark woman, one who most certainly spent a considerable amount of time in the gym.

They collided hard, enough to send both flying backwards. Ginny fell into Neville, their shopping bag scattering insect parts everywhere, who toppled over and into the tall shelf behind him.

His feet went over his head before tough wood met the back of his skull, sending potion ingredients, smelly and wet, raining down across the floor and glass shattering as a large jar of spider guts landed bare inches from his face.

Groaning, Neville forced himself to roll over and up on his feet, wiping gooey liquid and small bits of glass from his face and beard. Helping Ginny up as he did. On the other side of the aisle, the other woman was doing much the same with a third woman.

One who was most definitely not Hannah Abbott.

Seeing that everyone seemed mostly unharmed, the real damage the broken jar, Neville set out to clean up the mess they caused. He used his wand to gather up the spider guts and repair the strange oblong shaped jar they came in. Then he got down on his knees and started carefully collecting the ingredients needed for his potion. No way was he losing these, the shop didn't have anymore Purple Fungus Beetle carapaces, the main ingredient for Dreamless Sleep and the one that gave the potion its plummy colored glow.

"Pardon us," Ginny said somewhat shortly to the women they ran into. "Is everyone alright?"

"We're fine," the dark woman responded in a harsh tone. Which caught his attention. There wasn't much reason to be rude, the whole collision had clearly been an accident.

"Please excuse my friend, she's a bit cranky today… Oh, you're Ginny… Potter..." the third woman spoke up. Her voice, silvery and soft turned afraid and scratchy, had his head jerking in her direction at the familiarity. Carapaces forgotten, he pushed past Ginny to stand in front of Pansy Parkinson. Whose nearly black hair had grown in the years since Hogwarts until it reached mid back, her wide eyes a striking silver, and her nose still turned up at the end.

But the voice.

The one that called him 'idiot' these past few weeks.

The one that made him feel crazy enough to run off to St. Mungo's permanent ward.

The one that shouldn't be in his head in the first place.

It broke free and took control. " _Stella_!"

He rushed forward, grabbed his wife, and kissed the hell out of her.


	10. Chapter 10

"You ever notice the way he looks at her?" - _Mattie to Wayne between shifts._

There were reasons for Pansy's high security measures. Three bodyguards who watched her home around the clock. Reinforced windows and doors. Expensive wards placed all over her property. They all had a purpose.

To keep the Brotherhood of the Chosen far, far away.

She worried that venturing from her home on this trip to Diagon Alley was a bad idea, one that even gained some merit when she ran into Harry Potter's wife, Ginny. The sight of that flaming red hair nearly had her running for the Apparation Point, and worse, Neville Longbottom stood just behind Ginny, cleaning up the mess they all made.

Someone The Brotherhood loved almost as much as Harry.

Pansy wasn't nuts. She understood the religious sect for what it really was. A cult. Fanaticism at its worse. But that rational understanding did little to ease the terror and hurts of three attempts on her life and a long standing stream of hate mail and vindictive letters.

Seeing Neville made her reach out automatically for Mattie, for protection, because Pansy was no good with a wand. Especially when it came to defense. But when he grabbed her by the shoulders and put his lips over hers, the surprise froze her in place. Then a lot of things happened at once.

One, she knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, who her dream lover was.

Two, there was a ghost in her mind trying to possess her, one named Stella.

And three, that she loved her husband more than life itself, and wanted nothing more than to be with him. And finally, _finally_ , after 50 long years consummate their marriage.

The overload of complicated emotions, some hers, some not, finally got her to move away. Pushing on Neville Longbottom's sturdy shoulders and pulling her face away from his desperate attentions. "Mattie! Help!" she managed to scream, even as he continued to kiss her face and jaw line, clearly having lost his damn mind.

She watched her bodyguard jump into action, the Black Ash wand twirled through the air and a loud bang separated Pansy's body from Neville's. Knocked into yet another shelf, Pansy managed to roll onto her side and come up on her hands and knees. Wobbly and gasping for breath.

She looked up.

Ginny was just as fast as Mattie, her wand coming out and pointing with precision.

The ruckus caused the owner of the shop and several other customers to rush to their aisle. "Now, I don't want any trouble," Matt said calmly, fearless and steady. "Your friend attacked my charge, I broke them apart in defense. We are going to leave now."

"Attacked?" Ginny scoffed. "I hardly call _that_ an attack. What you did was an attack."

"And does your friend go around kissing other women who clearly don't want to be kissed?" Matt shot back quickly. "No? I didn't think so. Lower your wand."

"Do not tell me what to do."

It became crystal clear to Pansy that Ginny, even years after the war, was more than capable with her wand and just as steady as Matt. Unblinking, the two of them held their wands at the ready and pointed directly at each other.

"Mattie," she groaned as she rose to her feet for the second time. "Lower your wand, let's get out of here before anyone else gets involved."

The Brotherhood did not need anymore of a reason to harass her.

A taut silence followed her words and she wondered if Mattie would let it go, her cranky mood in need of an outlet. Oh God. Just what she needed. Another incident because Mattie needed a damn cigarette! "Mattie! Now!"

With a nasty snarl her bodyguard turned and grabbed her arm, leading them past the group of onlookers and a knocked out Neville Longbottom. Being dragged by didn't stop her from seeing the large knot forming on his forehead which in turn turned her stomach sour in an instant.

Ten weeks and two days since the last incident, and if one of those fanatics from the Brotherhood found out that she attacked Ginny Potter and Neville Longbottom…

The hate mail might stop, but only because they would start hunting her in earnest.


	11. Chapter 11

"If I can do nothing right, then I might as well go all out and do it really wrong!" - _Neville, the night after he turned down a job with the Auror Department._

Neville blinked his eyes open and stared into a pair of bright blue eyes. Uncomfortably bright. Piercing. Stern. Able to break him in only a few seconds as they'd done his entire life.

"Gran?" he moaned, realizing his head felt like a bag of mashed potatoes.

"He wakes," Augusta stated in an even tone. "I'll go let the Healer know."

"A bit spotty there for a minute, champ."

Moving his head required an effort he just couldn't summon right that moment but Erasmus danced into his line of sight and saved him the trouble. A tall man, his back rail straight despite his rapid approach to 90. He had a craggy gray beard to go with his craggy face and a personality completely opposite of Neville's gran.

Champ.

Neville hated the nickname. Erasmus used it the first time they met over Christmas Dinner and his dislike for the name only spurred Erasmus to use it more. It made him feel like a dog, somehow the image of a dachshund came to mind. A barky one. With long teeth.

"Spotty huh?" he tried to sit up, look for someone, anyone, else to talk to.

"Took a wee hit to yer head, dinnae?" Erasmus laughed heartily.

He must have hit his head in a special place if Erasmus suddenly had an accent. Or, he might be doing it just to mess around. Make him _think_ he was crazy. It was exactly the kind of thing Erasmus would do to Neville.

A bustling of noise startled him and fortunately kept anymore conversation from happening between him and his new Step-Granddad. A Healer in bright yellow robes and a large pair of eyeglasses came in carrying a greenish colored potion.

"Hellllo Mr. Longbottom!"

"Hellllo Ms. Healer," Neville attempted once again to sit up and found his body felt three times heavier than usual.

"Ah-ah-ah, stay down, Mr. Longbottom. You got knocked out—by a child I heard. Your head swelled up and you might have died if Mrs. Potter hadn't brought you right in," the Healer told him in the patronizing tone a parent might take with their naive child.

She then forced the potion right down his throat.

Sputtering and coughing, the thick liquid tasted like sour cherries and broom wax and covered his tongue with a thin film that made him want to gag. "Eeuuugh-"

"Now now, it'll be over soon," she clamped her hand over his mouth, keeping him from throwing up the horrid potion right away. "I'm Healer Hughes, Melinda Higgly-Hughes of the Hughes family. This is a Concussion Draught, just a precaution. It will prevent any ill effects if you do in fact have a concussion or any more brain swelling or even a brain aneurysm. Ha! Those things will kill you, ya know?"

"I do now," Neville resisted the urge to cry. Not from fear or pain, or even the horrible taste the potion left in his mouth. But out of frustration. Did she have to sound so peppy talking about his death, manhandling him, in front of both his Gran and her horrible new husband?

Would it be too much to wish for an actual brain aneurysm?

"Give the potion about 15 minutes and then you can get dressed and leave, sound good Mr. Longbottom?"

The Healer didn't wait for an answer before turning on her feet and marching right out the door. Clearly she had more important things to do.

His Gran took the opportunity to stand next to his bed, looking down at him with a disapproving frown. "Knocked out by a child?"

"Child? Who said child?" he groaned again and this time no one stopped him. "It was a witch, she was just short."

"She?" Erasmus laughed deep from his belly. "A little witch got the better o' you?"

"Does the gender matter?" Neville snapped. Wasn't the first time Erasmus tried to pull that sexist crap, and frankly Neville didn't understand why his Gran put up with it. "I know several witches powerful enough to knock out even the strongest wizard without a thought."

His Gran being one of them. Erasmus didn't look chided in the least though and his Gran looked passive as always.

"And," he continued. "It wasn't a girl. It was a woman, a strong witch. Where is Ginny?"

"She had to go," Augusta patted his shoulder. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better, son."

"Thanks, Gran. Don't worry, I can get myself home."

It would be a cold day in hell when he accepted any kind of assistance from Erasmus, as he was sure the man was about to offer. Offer as he paced back and forth, trying his best not to look bored.

"See Auggie? The lad is dune jus fine if a wee bit pluckie."

"Stop your nonsense, Erasmus," Augusta's eyes turned ever sharper in her husband's direction.

"Of course dear, I'll give you two a moment alone."

"Neville," his Gran said once it was just the two of them. "How did this witch get the jump on both you and Mrs. Potter? I know you decided _against_ pursuing an Auror career-"

"Gran," he stopped her before she could get going. "She didn't 'get the jump'. I… I'm… it was all just a big misunderstanding. I'll take care of it."

He wanted to come clean about the voice in his head that was more than a voice, but something stopped him. Augusta wouldn't understand. More, she would disapprove of his succumbing to the unknown force and not having the mental stamina to resist in the first place.

Maybe it was the whole situation with Hannah but a big part of him was screaming he needed to speak to the person that made it impossible for him to resist the voice in his head. The one who brought it to the front.

Pansy Parkinson.


	12. Chapter 12

"I wish I was a mermaid, then I would have amazing abs and the ability to swim the hell away from you!" - _Pansy to her cranky bodyguard Mattie, after a fight about cigarettes._

The man who sat at her marble kitchen island looked annoyed, brow furrowed kind of annoyed. He tapped his quill impatiently as Mattie recounted what happened in her usual irate voice, giving a short but accurate description of Pansy's shopping trip. But Pansy saw the way Mattie's foot bounced anxiously underneath the counter and noted when she shoved 3 whole sticks of Zonko's pink calamint gum into her mouth at once.

Mattie needed a cigarette but more she never liked Draco Malfoy and he certainly didn't like her either.

"Matt only did as I asked," Pansy interjected before another fight broke out. "I needed help, she interceded on my behalf as is her job, and then got me out of a hairy situation."

"The hairy situation being that Neville Longbottom… _kissed_ you?"

_No, not this… Longbottom fellow. What kind of name is Longbottom anyways? That was Gus through and through, sweetheart. My husband knows how to kiss a woman._

Ehhhh????

"First he called her 'Stella'," Mattie said, taking a 4th piece of gum from her pocket. "Then he kissed her, kissed her like a man kisses a woman he hadn't seen in a while."

Then she turned to Pansy, popped the gum into her mouth and smirked. "You two had a thing in school right? Clearly he's missed you more than you missed him."

"Oh no," Pansy hopped off the counter and started pacing in front of the stove. "Hard no, Mattie."

"He most certainly would never kiss her, not after their history," Draco offered.

"History?"

"Nothing so tawdry, Matt. I made up a cruel name when we were in Second Year," Pansy placed her fingers on her hot cheeks, trying to calm herself down. Her heart had been pumping frantically ever since her shopping trip and had yet to calm down to normal levels. "It wasn't even clever. We called him… I called him Fatbottom, because he was a chunky child. "

Mattie snorted. "And he came up with Stella in return. What an idiot, of course you didn't want to kiss him back."

_But wasn't it marvelous, honey? That man is pure steel underneath those common clothes._

"Can you please be silent?" Pansy snapped, wringing her wrists nervously.

Both Mattie and Draco looked surprised at her outburst, but of course, she hadn't been speaking to them. She'd been speaking to Stella.

_Give in. You've been cooped up in this house for years. You need a proper tumble in a sturdy bed with a man who knows what he's doing, and honey, my man knows what he's doing. Just go along for the ride and let us do our thing._

"Your ... thing?" Pansy was almost too afraid to ask.

And was promptly rewarded with image of image of exactly what the voice in her mind would do given half the chance. It wasn't unfamiliar. It was her and Neville. Doing... Oh Goddesses...

"There's something I haven't told either of you," Pansy continued her pacing, ignoring the persistent voice in her head. It sounded like her own voice. It blended seamlessly into her own thoughts except for all the 'honey' and 'sweetheart's and that _accent_.

Maybe it was her own voice? And she wasn't yet certain exactly what happened. Perhaps she experienced a psychotic break, her mind shattering and coming up with this… provocative persona named Stella?

Drats! She'd been ready to explain about the voice in her head but what if it was all just that? In her head? Oh but, Neville Longbottom called her Stella. Clearly he was involved, somehow. She couldn't even guess as to how, but he was.

"Stella...?" she asked, despite Mattie and Draco both observing her very carefully. For once they seemed to be on the same page: concerned.

_Yes, Pansy?_

Well, it was official. She was fucking insane.

Decision made, she stopped in front of Draco, who had come to help her and be her legal representation. "I need to speak to him. To Neville."


	13. Chapter 13

"I guess I'm looking for something, what? I don't know. But it's probably coffee. Or chocolate. Or both, at the saaaame time." - _Neville, when Susan asked why he kept traveling instead of settling down._

The last person he expected to find doing dishes at his kitchen sink when he arrived home from the hospital was Hannah. The Concussion Draught worked well, his head barely hurt at all after the hit he took but still... he spent the better part of a day knocked out. The disorientation had him stepping back out onto his patio before re-entering through the back door.

She was still there, bright pink rubber gloves fitted on her hands as the sink faucet ran hot water. Doing dishes. Her legs looked tan and long underneath her tight shorts and yellow tank top and he wondered how big of a mistake he made by breaking up with her.

When Hannah turned her head, looking at him over her bare shoulder, he noticed immediately how good she looked. Far better than him in every way, all made up. No sleepless nights to be seen on her face. She _definitely_ hadn't been spending her day cooped up at the hospital.

She said, "Hey."

"... Hey Hannah."

She turned back to the ungodly pile of dishes in his sink and continued scrubbing. "Gin told Hermione who told Susie who told Terry who told Ernie who came over and told me that you'd been sent to St. Mungo's."

"Oh yeah?"

Setting his stuff on the old wooden kitchen table, the potion ingredients saved by Gin and his torn t-shirt, he couldn't stop himself from walking over to join her at the sink. Drying the dishes she washed by hand.

"I went to Mungo's but chickened out when I spotted Auggie in the waiting room, so I came here instead. This place is a mess baby."

They both sucked in a breath. He was feeling more and more confused by the minute and she wasn't ready to admit it was over. But they always used pet names for each other, it came out of habit. This just happened to be the first time post break-up.

"I know," he said a full minute later, choosing to ignore the slip-up and how uncomfortable it made them.

Out of the corner of his eye he could tell she was frowning, using the scrubbing motions to work out her confusion, to work up to whatever she wanted to say. He tried to prepare himself for anything. The last time they spoke, she was yelling at him as she threw his stuff through the Floo. Before that he told her he didn't love her and wanted to end their relationship.

He couldn't imagine what she could possibly want to say to him.

She handed him a plate to dry and moved on to the next dish. "I cleaned up your Floo room. I'm sorry I broke all your things. I shouldn't have done that."

"I don't blame you."

"Are you hurt?" she asked cautiously.

Yes. He didn't understand his feelings and that was before whatever the hellish voice was inside his head. He wanted Hannah to be happy, to flourish. He wanted to be friends with her and be in her life. Not as a boyfriend. Not as a lover. But being around her made his gut cramp uncomfortably, the air tense between them. If he wasn't in love with her, then what the hell did he feel during their relationship? Was it only sexual attraction, and he was just a moron only thinking with his cock?

"I mean," she pointed a round, pink gloved finger at her forehead.

"Oh-" he coughed. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Oh-good."

"Yeah-good."

"Yeah."

Her posture drooped towards the sink, her scrubbing coming to a stop. "Nev, Ginny told Hermione who told Susan who told me that you kissed someone."

"Hannah it wasn't like that."

"She kissed you?"

"No, I'm not sleeping and I'm hearing-"

"Not sleeping well doesn't translate to you kissing another woman-"

"It wasn't _me_ , Hannah Banana-"

"Don't call me that. Don't call me by that name-"

"I'm sorry, I don't know how to do this-"

"You broke up with me three weeks ago and now you're what? Seeing someone else?"

"No! Not at all!"

"So just… kissing?" She finally looked up at him, brown eyes turning wet. "Kissing someone else. Who is she?"

"Pansy Parkinson," he answered softly because he wasn't going to lie to her.

Surprise turned to anger turned to tears in an instant, a strange keening sound coming from Hannah's throat. Like she couldn't believe it. Angrily, she pulled off her rubber gloves and threw them into the sink, turning off the faucet with force enough to make the pipes groan.

"I can't believe how much of an idiot I am!" she shouted, stomping out of the room. "Coming here, cleaning up the mess I made, and you're seeing _Pansy Parkinson_!"

He followed her down the hallway at a complete loss of what to say as she broke down into sobs, big hiccuping sobs. "Hannah, I'm _not_ seeing anyone!"

She bee-lined straight for the front door, her fists curling. "Wait, Hannah, don't Apparate, you're upset!"

"It's not even been a month since we broke up and you're already seeing other people and I'm the dumped idiot who came to clean your house while you were in the hospital," she wailed.

Head turning woozy, he jogged down the hallway to catch up, stopping her just before she opened the front door. "Hannah, wait. I'm not seeing anyone. I couldn't. I swear it isn't what you think!"

She jerked out of his hold and pulled the door open hard enough to ram into his foot. The sharp pain made him hop up onto his opposite foot. "Ouch! Hannah!"

"Oh you're not seeing anyone," she mocked. "You couldn't, you _swear_ it isn't what I think? What a load of—ugh!"

Hannah shoved him hard enough to tip him over before she rushed away. He landed hard on his side, rolling over onto his back with a loud groan. Just his luck to end up at St. Mungo's for the second time in a day. His head started throbbing again as his foot screamed in pain but someone was clearing their throat followed by a loud crack that signaled Hannah's Apparation.

He looked up from his position, sprawled out on the floor, and into the face of Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and two others he didn't immediately recognize. Who must have been coming up the walkway just in time for Hannah to make her get away. Goddesses only knew what she was thinking _now._

"This day just keeps getting better and better."

The two he didn't recognize rolled their eyes at each other and split up, each walking in the opposite direction around his house. "Hey! Where are they going?"

"Securing the property," Malfoy answered dryly. "May we come in?"

"No," he groaned again, rolling up and onto his feet, shaking his head as if it would make it stop spinning. "Who are they and what are they doing?"

"They're my bodyguards," Pansy spoke up, though her voice quivered as if in fear. "They're here to protect me."

"Bodyguards?" he jumped down the stairs that led from his front door and watched as the two slowly circled his home as if looking for weak points, wands out expertly. "Why do you need bodyguards to come see me?"

He realized then that one of the guards was the dark woman from earlier, the one who knocked him out. No wonder everyone thought she was a child. The witch had a bright blue ribbon in her hair tied into a sweet bow. Add in her petite height and the fact that she was blowing bright pink bubbles with her gum. She looked kind of like a kid, a heavily muscled one that could kick ass at a moment's notice.

"Don't answer that, Pansy. Mr. Longbottom, do you have any associates with The Brotherhood of the Chosen?"

"Associates? With who? What?" Neville rubbed the back of his head in frustration and stumbled over to the small sitting area in the front yard. It was made private by the overgrown hedges that circled the two benches and water fountain that didn't work. He kept meaning to fix it up. Eventually.

Malfoy helped Pansy to the furthest bench, putting himself directly in between her and Neville before taking the seat directly to her left. While his head continued to spin, it was still clear to him that Draco Malfoy would absolutely step in to protect Pansy. The question was why and what she needed protecting from. "Give me a moment please."

He didn't want to delay whatever strange conversation that was about to happen, one between him and two people he had never gotten along with and hadn't thought of in several years. But he hit his head again when Hannah pushed him and the resulting headache made him want to hurl.

"Are you alright?" Pansy asked, and again he caught that trace of fear. A slight quiver in her voice that definitely sounded like… panic. "I thought you were sent to the hospital."

"They gave me a Concussion Draught, I'll be fine. Just tired."

Then he finally looked at her. Pansy Parkinson. Dark, wavy black hair pinned back at the sides and trembling pink lips. But her eyes seemed more silver than the plain gray he remembered. Immediately he was reminded of the final battle at Hogwarts, and how truly scared the witch had been when they all stood in the Great Hall. Impossible, but she seemed even _more_ afraid now.

What could she possibly be afraid of? Especially from him? Here at Longbottom Keep?

"Why are you tired, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Do I need my own legal representation here?" he asked Malfoy, suddenly realizing how outnumbered he was. 4 to 1, one of them already having gotten the jump on him that day, despite what he told his Gran.

"Your head is quite swollen," Pansy leaned toward him, eyes squinting as she examined his forehead.

_Moonlit eyes like a kitty cat, but beneath that pale skin is the spirit of my wife, chump._

...

WIFE!?

"Focus, Longbottom, focus," he muttered to himself. Janus Thickey was knocking.

The voice seemed much quieter than it had been before, and he wondered if maybe getting knocked around helped keep the force settled. After all, he was sitting across from Pansy, not kissing her, or calling her by a different name.

"Well Bubblegum over there knocked me out earlier, in case you've forgotten?" he said out loud. But in his head he reminded himself that he _wasn't_ married. He'd never been married. He wasn't currently married or planning to get married.

Not.

Married.

"I haven't forgotten," Pansy said sternly, crossing her arms. It erased that trace of fear from her voice though. Something he quite enjoyed. Then she said, "Nor have I forgotten why it happened."

Said in such a way he couldn't ignore he was the reason he got knocked the hell out by a miniature bubblegum blowing witch.

"Yes," he started. "I am tired."

Then he looked right into Pansy's witchy silver eyes. The voice in his head was right. They looked like the silver of the moon. "I've been having a lot of dreams lately."

Back shooting straight up, she pinched her lips together as her eyes went wide. "Dreams?"

Another throat clearing. The other bodyguard, tall and blonde like a statue with eyes that didn't miss a thing stood at the entrance to the sitting area. "Perhaps that has something to do with it, boss."

He pointed to Pansy's hand. Neville's eyes went right to the silver and gold links that circled her wrist. An exact match to the one on his wrist. He placed his arm next to hers. "Where did you…"

He looked up and caught the moment when Pansy's silver eyes faded to a pale gray before turning into a deep green. Her face turned softer, a smile pushing up the edges of her plump lips. Were they plumped before? She said, "Gus?" in a honeyed foreign accent.

It was the only warning he got before she launched herself right at him. For the third time that day, his head hit the ground, rattling his brain, but he didn't mind this time.

Because Pansy Parkinson was straddling him, kissing him with a fiery passion he had never experienced before in his life. And then, without his permission, the force inside of him spread out and took over his body and mind and he responded to her passion with his own.

Mattie stepped in next to Gerry and Draco, looking down at the two idiot lovebirds rolling around in the grass like teenagers. "No history huh?"

Draco tilted his head. "That is not Pansy."

"Should we… stop them?"


	14. Chapter 14

"He makes her happy, even though he's a huge dickhead that I hate with a burning passion of 1000 fiendfyres. Whatever. I don't make her happy, so what can I do about it? Ima sing power ballads until I die, that's what." - _Neville, after waaay too many drinks and a karaoke session that shall never be mentioned again. Never._

"Explain it once more."

Hermione sat in the formal living room, a room Neville usually ignored. It had gathered a healthy amount of dust in the several months since his Gran moved out and in with Erasmus. Green plaid with white stripe curtains covered the windows, which Pansy had insisted remain closed, and entire shelves full of wooden mallards covered every other wall of the room.

Ducks.

They freaked Neville out.

He sat beside Hermione, head in his hands, arms braced against his knees, entire body throbbing in the worst way. But mostly the ache came from his poor, abused head. The fourth knock, delivered by the tall bodyguard named Gerry, managed to get that nagging voice out of his head and make him realize he was straight snogging Pansy Parkinson.

Though she was the one that initiated the session, somehow someway he was the one that got bumped on the head by a 7 foot blue-eyed Viking.

This day SUCKED.

Across from him Draco and Pansy both sat looking as uncomfortable as he felt. But at least he had his own legal representation now. And he'd rather have Hermione anyways. She was a wiz in court though her usual clients were abused werewolves or unpaid house elves.

"I told you," he said again. "Ginny came to see me this morning and together we decided to go to Diagon Alley to get ingredients to make Dreamless Sleep Potions."

"Because you haven't been sleeping lately?" Hermione reiterated.

"Yes, I've been having-" he glanced at Pansy, who turned a bright pink at his attention. " _Sex dreams_ that have kept me awake for weeks now."

"And Ms. Parkinson has been experiencing the same," Hermione paused and looked around. _"Symptoms."_

"Yes," Pansy covered her face. Suddenly shy again.

"At the supply shop you saw Ms. Parkinson and lost conscious control of your body."

"I'm possessed," Neville snapped, his mood turning more and more sour as the day went on. "I think Ms. Parkinson is possessed too."

"Don't say my name that way," she uncovered her face and glared rather angrily toward him. "I did not ask for this. This isn't my fault! Please don't blame me for this. Don't even think it."

" _No one_ is blaming you, Pansy, as you are clearly the victim here," Malfoy glared at everyone in the room to make his point.

"But I'm right, aren't I? ... Stella?" Neville caught her gaze, looking for forest green and finding only pure silver.

"I don't appreciate your tone, Mr. Longbottom, after all you were first to assault my client," Malfoy warned him in a voice that didn't sound like a threat but clearly was.

"Yet somehow _my client_ has been hit three times in the head today, by two of Ms. Parkinson's hired guards and once by her herself."

" _Four_!" he shouted.

"Stop stop," Pansy waved her hands between them. "Please I don't want any more aggression."

The look she gave Malfoy said there was more at play that they were revealing, but Neville couldn't guess at what it could be. After a tense moment Malfoy nodded and Pansy turned back to them. "Yes, I think I'm also possessed as Nev-Nev-Longbottom-Mr. Longbottom said."

The fear was back, she couldn't even say his name. She continued, "By someone named Stella… she… you know she kind of speaks like Wayne."

Draco's eyebrow raised. "You're sure?"

"Who is Wayne?" Hermione asked pleasantly.

"My third bodyguard."

"Why the hell do you have three bodyguards?" Neville wondered out loud, sounding as frustrated as he felt. Like the Viking and Bubblegum Girl weren't enough already? Suddenly he realized there was a third person probably out to hit him now. Great. Juuuuust great.

"Don't answer that, Pansy," Malfoy insisted. "Not until he answers my earlier question."

"What question would that be?" Hermione asked.

"What does Wayne sound like?" he asked, not really following the conversation. His mind was going too fast. He was too worried about these bodyguards.

"Wayne was born in Texas, USA," Pansy told Neville.

 _My wife is not from Texas,_ Gus scoffed. Straight up. Neville heard it as clearly as his own thoughts.

"Whether or not he has any association with The Brotherhood of the Chosen?" Malfoy continued.

Then he looked at Neville, who looked at Hermione, who looked at Pansy with her head tilted to the side and questioning look on her face. A look Neville knew pretty well. Finally Hermione said, "Do you Neville?"

"I don't even know what that is," he admitted, frustrated. He was still stuck on this Wayne fellow. And Gus. And TEXAS. And on the throbbing in his head. Seriously, he'd never had a migraine before and didn't often get headaches. Was it always this awful!?

"He doesn't even know what that is," Pansy repeated to Draco. Slowly. As if she couldn't believe it. She took a deep breath, her mouth forming a perfect O shape before she let it out.

"It's a cult," Hermione informed him on the tail end of Pansy's words. "They worship Harry, they see him as a destined Hero because of the prophecy about him."

"The one that could've been about me?" Neville asked.

"Yes. But it's not," Hermione reminded. "They are fanatic sure, but harmless."

A taut silence as everyone who wasn't Neville or Hermione stilled.

"Harmless?" Pansy's voice raised for the first time. The fear was gone at least. "Harmless!"

"Calm down Pansy!" Draco insisted.

"I will not! Those people aren't 'harmless'! They've tried to kill me three times!" she wrenched the collar of her shirt down and revealed a spattering of burn marks all across the right side of her chest and, from what wasn't covered by her lacy purple bra, on her breast as well.

"Spitting Fire Beetle! Not so harmless after all!"

So maybe she usually was shy, but when she got going, Pansy really got going.

"Pansy, please," Malfoy dropped his parchment and quill and swiveled around to help button up her shirt. Again he put himself between Pansy and everyone else. "Lowlife fanatics who have nothing better to do with their time than worship a false deity don't deserve your anguish."

"That's good advice," Neville told Hermione in a whisper.

She nodded. "Pansy, you're saying members of this cult have tried to kill you three times? Do you have proof?"

"Yes." This from the Viking, who stood guard at the doorway. "The Ministry has all the evidence, I'm the one that collects and delivers it. Mostly hate mail and angry letters. Three cursed trinkets, unsuccessful, but also one squashed beetle, a Self-Cutting Knife, and one cursed bird feather."

"So that's six attempts," Neville folded his arms across his chest and finally leaned back in his seat. Not _three_ , was she trying to downplay it? He dared to look at Pansy again and decided yes, based on her red tinted cheeks and a look on her face he was all too familiar with. She didn't much enjoy attention. "I see why you have bodyguards. But why? What possible reason do they have to want you dead?"

"She tried to sell out Harry during the Final Battle," Hermione answered for her.

"Now that we've established Mr. Longbottom isn't part of the cult trying to harm Ms. Parkinson, maybe we can get back to the original topic."

"Actually," Neville stood up. "I want a minute alone with you."

He said it to Pansy. And he wasn't sure if it was him... or Gus.

She stood up, silver eyes swimming in fear but chin turned up stubbornly. He didn't need a voice in his head telling him she was breathtaking. "No."

Then she left.


	15. Chapter 15

"No one knows what happened to my father, they found him in the lake a few days afterwards. We never really got along, I think I reminded him too much of my mother." - _Pansy, age 18, to her bodyguard Gerry after a little too much wine._

Several sleepless nights later, Pansy lay in her bed listening to a gentle stream of rain hit her stained glass window. It should have been relaxing. Instead she argued with Stella.

The Ghost in her head.

Did that make her crazy? Possibly. But crazy was alive and well.

It didn't help that she couldn't stop thinking about Neville. And … Gus. The two mixed together in a seamless stream of memories and emotions, some of which were hers and some of which were Stella's.

"Please, I need one night of sleep. Just one night, then you can go back to dreaming about your hubby."

She resolved to bargaining. Pleading. BEGGING.

_I'm not the one dreamin', hon._

"I started having the dreams the same day I put on the bracelet. The same day you showed up in my head," she complained, tugging on the offensive metal around her wrist and wishing Mrs. Grant would return her letter. Pansy wanted to know exactly where the hell that woman had gotten the bracelet from. "And I've never had sex before, how could I dream… what I dream…"

_Everybody has sex, hon. And it would be a damn shame if you keep putting it off._

"It's _you_ and your husband. Clearly you two were hot and wild when you were alive."

_You don't dream of me and Gus though, if you were, I'd have to take offense. You're dreamin' of that stud. I mean, he needs a bit of a brush up but mm-mmmm. I bet he's dyn-a-mite in bed._

"Stop," Pansy groaned.

_I saw the way he looked at you when he asked to be a-lone. Only one thing a man thinks about when he asks to be alone with a woman._

"One. Night." Pansy begged. "Please, Stella? I need sleep."

_As I need my husband. I've waited 50 years to see him again. You can sleep once we've reunited._

"What does THAT mean... 'reunited'? You want me to sleep with bloody Neville Longbottom just so you can… get… laid?! Don't answer."

She pushed off the sheet and sat up, running her fingers through her tangled hair. Her eyes ached, which she didn't think was possible, but they did. She wasn't exhausted anymore. Too many days without sleep had pushed her passed exhaustion and fatigue and straight into a numb delirium. Plus, the voices in her head. Ha ha.

Insanity!

"Don't answer," she repeated, heading to her bathroom to take an unnecessarily long, hot shower.

One where she pampered herself with expensive body wash and deep conditioning hair tonic that made her feel like one of the Goddesses, if only for a few hours. She shaved all the unwanted hair from her body and soaked her feet with calming cream.

Then she trimmed her bangs and moisturized her face.

Hoping for an iota of relaxation, just enough to help her fall asleep and hopefully stay that way. She smelled like a garden when she left the bathroom and felt unequivocally clean. She slipped into a fresh set of pajamas, deep blue colored silk shorts that had little white bows on the sides and a matching tank top.

 _Sexy, sexy_ , Stella purred in her mind.

"Comfy, comfy," Pansy argued. "Going for relaxation here, Stel."

Oh no, was she becoming familiar with the crazy ghost in her head?

Through the dark hallway she went to her kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea but at the open doorway she caught sight of a tall shadow.

"Wayne?" she called. "Is that you?"

The shadow turned and disappeared too quickly for her eyes to follow and from the front foyer she heard Wayne call back to her. "I'm at the front, Ms. Pansy."

Her heart jumped into her throat. "Wayne there's someone in the kitchen!"

_Honey! Go get him!_

"You want me to chase the stranger in my home?!" she shouted in a panic.

"No!" Wayne shouted from the other side of the house. "Go to your bedroom and lock the door!"

Which was their secret code for her to hide in the linen closet. _Don't you dare! You're a witch, get your wand and defend your home from the intruder!_

"Are you crazy?" she shouted, unable to bring down the volume of her voice. She ran for the closet at the end of the hallway. "Why do you think I hired bodyguards?"

_You're pathetic! If it were me, I would knock that sucker out just like my mama taught me._

"You aren't me, I'm just a tiny witch with no real power."

_If I had a wand, I would use it for three things, honey. Breakin' into banks, making people think I didn't break into that bank, and getting my husband's clothes clean off._

"How the hell is that supposed to help me right now?" Pansy stuffed herself into her linen closet and into the corner, surrounding herself in darkness. "And... really.. banks? What were you? Some kind of bandit?!"

 _I guess four things,_ Stella admitted. _I'd use it to knock that sucker out and make him sing._

"Sing?"

_Spill the dirt, honey. Interrogation style. Plus, you're just gonna leave your man alone like this? What if this intruder takes him down? He might could need some backup._

"Oh Goddesses, Wayne…" Pansy gulped. "But what could I possibly do to help?"

_You got a fryin' pan?_

Trembling, she opened the linen closet door and ventured out trying to remain as silent as she could. She made her way to the kitchen where she kept three iron skillets. A small, medium, and large. She grabbed the biggest one.

_No, no. It's too heavy. Grab the small one, easier to maneuver._

"Wouldn't the big one deliver a heavier blow?" she asked quietly, though she was freaking out.

_No, sweetheart, the small one will make it easier to hit him and it's hard enough to take 'em out. The bigger one will be harder to swing. Get the small one!_

"Okay fine!" she dropped the big one in the sink and went for the smaller one as directed. By the ghost living in her head.

It was lighter. She used it for eggs. Now she planned to… what? Hit some shadow she saw for a half second when she hired a perfectly capable guard to protect her?

_Hon, why don't you let me handle this one?_

"Handle it how?"

_Babydoll, you think some cultist is going to scare me? My father is way scarier than some goon and I avoided him for years._

"Father?" Surprise had her throwing open her mental door, and Stella slid right through, taking control of her body. In the mirror behind her herb rack, Pansy watched her eyes turn to a deep forest green and a slow, sultry smirk came across her lips. Trapped in her own body.

_Oh no, Stella, please don't do this._

"Oh yes, honey." Stella, using her body, flipped the iron skillet around by the handle like she knew exactly what she was doing, and marched right out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and into the unknown darkness of Pansy's living room with a confident saunter.

_Last time you did this, you kissed someone who hates my guts! In case you've forgotten… THERE'S A CULT AFTER MY HEAD._

"That Longbottom fellow does not hate your guts," Stella told her, her accent even thicker out loud. Pure American Southern, straight from the 1950s, vowels slow and dripping with honey. "10 bucks says he'd play a little back seat bingo with you given the slightest chance. Come out, come out wherever you are…"

_Stella!_

The shadow moved in front of them, a blurry white face in the darkness but he clearly held a wand. Stella dodged the red bolts with a grace that should have been impossible, tumbling over like a trained gymnast behind Pansy's couch. She did it again through the space between the coffee table and couch, coming in right behind the intruder.

He swung around, forgetting his wand and turning physical clearly thinking he had the size advantage.

He did.

But Stella had Pansy's skillet.

She brought the cast iron down hard on the back of his head. A satisfying thump signaled his fall. "And that is exactly how my mama taught me to take care of unwelcome guests!"


	16. Chapter 16

"No, I have no idea what career I want to pursue. But I do see a cliff I'd like to jump off, pardon me, Gran." - _Neville after the 534th time Augusta asked about the Auror Department._

Unable to sleep, Neville Floo'd over to Susan's. A self-proclaimed night owl, he found her on the back patio, studying her notes. She was currently in an advanced course to become a ward breaker.

"Nevvy!" she cried happily at the sight of him. As usual, when she spoke, she used her whole mouth, every word came with a mouth full of teeth.

"Susie!" he responded in mock enthusiasm. "Want to explain why you're telling people I'm going around snogging other women?"

"Oh ho, no no," she waved a finger in his direction. "I told Hannah only what I heard and made it perfectly clear I thought it only unconfirmed rumor at that point in time. Of course, then I ran into Ginny and learned differently. You floozy."

He fell into the seat beside her, tired and frankly shocked at Susan for her tease. "Susan, I'm really scared."

That caught her attention. She sat up, red hair falling down her back as her notes went to the small outdoor patio. Next to a half empty bottle of wine. That would explain the good mood. "Nev? What happened?"

"I'm possessed, literally," he confessed. "There's a ghost in my head, he speaks to me, and he took over my body and kissed Pansy Parkinson."

"Uh, Nev, ghosts don't possess people. Spirits do."

Growling he said, "Okay, sorry for the vernacular. I'm possessed by a _spirit_. He speaks to me, and he took over my body-"

"I get it!" she shouted, eyes going wide with annoyance. "So, you're saying the reason you snogged with Pansy Parkinson of all people, is because you're… possessed?"

She started laughing, hands hitting her knees kind of laughing.

"It's not funny, she's possessed too! It's these!" he showed her the bracelet. "Hannah gave me this bracelet, the day we broke up. I can't get it off with magic or anything else and she won't talk to me to tell me where she got the bracelet from because she thinks I'm seeing someone else! So. Stop. Laughing! Why are you still laughing?!"

"Because," Susan covered her red face with her hands, absolutely howling with hysterics. "You got possessed and the first thing you did was _snog_. With Pansy Parkinson! Ahaha!"

Sighing, he leaned his head to rest on the chair back. "I came here for love and support from my friend. Do you know if she's here?"

"I apologize," she said, smiling. But she meant it, he could tell. "Sooo, I might be talking to the spirit inhabiting your body right now?"

"No," Neville sighed. When he kissed Pansy, that was Gus. Gus took over his body, took control. Neville had been aware of what was happening, but unable to do anything about it. "He only makes himself known when Pansy is around. Occasionally he makes a rude remark about the state of my generation… Like 'today's kids are so dramatic'."

_Emotional. I said emotional._

"Ha. I'm supposed to meet Hannah tomorrow for lunch, I'll ask about the bracelet for you."

"Thank you," he paused. "Don't tell her about what's going on."

"No?" Susan asked, giving him a curious eye. "You really care about her, huh?"

"Of course I do. You know I do. That won't ever change."

She reached out and started rubbing the back of his neck, fingers digging into muscle.

"Oh wow, that feels good," he moaned. He was so, so tired, not having gotten any sleep in what felt like weeks. "I don't want her to be hurt, there's been enough of that lately. She was upset the other day and I have this feeling like this whole situation with Pansy is going to get worse before it gets better."

"Yikes, why's that?"

He explained about The Brotherhood, the murder attempts, and the bodyguards, glad to see Susan's horror matched his own. She even swore quite loudly when he described the burn scars Pansy had across her chest. " _Bastards!"_

"Harry would hate them," Neville said, feeling quite angry all the sudden. "She didn't do anything wrong. Why are they after her?"

"No?" Susan asked.

"No, I don't think she did anything a normal 18 year old wouldn't do in the same situation."

"I don't think so either," Susan agreed. "I won't tell Hannah, though, I have to ask Nev… is that why you broke up with her? The spirit in your head? He wants his wife..."

"No," he shook his head, though it made him woozy again. The poor thing had taken quite the beating recently. "I'd been trying to break up with her for weeks before she put the bracelet on. Remember?"

"But she put the bracelet on you and then you broke up with her right after that? I'm just … pointing it out."

She wasn't wrong, but Neville knew for sure everyone else would arrive at the same conclusion. Yes, the bracelet went on his wrist and then he broke up with Hannah in that order. But he remembered every miserable moment of the weeks leading up to the day he broke up with her, the witch he spent several years in a steady relationship with. From the late hour he realized he didn't actually love her to the dreaded moment he actually said the words out loud. She put the bracelet on his wrist long, long after he made the decision to end things.

Once word got out about this ridiculous possession situation… people were going to talk. And Hannah was definitely going to get hurt. "This could not get worse," he told Susan.

"Maybe you should sleep here. I'll make you breakfast in the A.M."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked suddenly.

"I told you," she warned with a mock smile. "You were going to suffer for putting off breaking my friend's heart, Neville Longbottom. I just didn't want you to suffer this much."

_Hey chump. We have a problem._

"Excuse me?"

"I said I didn't want you to suffer-"

"No, not you. Gus."

"Gus?"

"Gus!" he pointed to his head. "What's the problem?"

_My wife is in trouble, which probably means your girl is in it too._

Susan looked at him like he was nuts. "He says Stella is in trouble, so Pansy probably is too… How would you even know?"

_Are you taking the mickey out on me? That is my wife._

"Ohh, your wife? Of course... What kind of logic is that?" Neville groaned, standing up. Except… "I don't even know where Pansy is."

_Allow me…_

The whisper across his mind mixed with an unstoppable, soul deep tug. It confused him just enough to let Gus through. Neville became a passenger as Gus came to the front, reaching into the inside shirt pocket and pulling out his Cherry Wand.

"Uh? Neville?"

"No worries, young lady, but I must be going now," Gus said in a prim, posh sounding accent, giving a bewildered Susan a smile before he Apparated on the spot.

He appeared in the dark, in front of a stone and iron gate surrounded by trees. Neville wanted to hurl. Apparating wasn't a problem for him, usually.

But going along for the ride when someone else was in control of your own body changed the game big time. Too bad there was a _damn ghost controlling his body!_ He couldn't even vomit to make himself feel better.

There was no house visible from his spot, but Gus knew what he was doing. He ran at the gate and jumped it with far more athletic ability than Neville ever possessed, footing his way through a wooded area as if he could see through the dark until they came upon a large house.

A glass house, sleeping for the night.

Gus didn't stop until he made his way around to what must have been the front door and busted in without hesitation. Right into a third bodyguard. This must have been Wayne. Tall and dark headed, Wayne did not waste time turning his wand in Gus's direction.

"No!" Wayne shouted, though he kept his wand leveled on Gus. "Go to your bedroom and lock the door!"

Clearly not talking to him. Them. Gus and Neville. Goddesses this was confusing!

"I'm here to help," Gus said, raising his hands in surrender. "Ms. Parkinson is in trouble."

"You _are_ the trouble mister," but he kept looking over his shoulder. "Damn it, maybe not. Stay here."

Then the guard turned and ran down the hallway, wand out.

_Does he really think we're just going to stand here?_

"Youth today," Gus laughed as he followed, Neville's wand out in front of him. "Deluded."

He stalked through the hallway like he knew what he was doing, checking around corners and clearing room by room until he came to a corner. The hallway split off to the right but an open doorway led into a large dark room. Wayne appeared to their right, looking pissed but pointing into that dark room with determination.

There was a rush of movement followed by a loud thump. "And that is exactly how my mama taught me to take care of unwelcome guests!"

"Ahh Stella," he said with a smile, flipping the light on. Pride swelling his heart. The room flooded with light, revealing more glass windows and a nice seating area around a wide coffee table. On the floor lay a man in a black cloak, knocked out. But he seemed to be the only intruder.

_No no, back off, don't start kissing again! I have to get her to trust me!_

"She's mine, she trusts me," Gus smiled, eyes only for his lost wife. Wearing short shorts and a matching blue top brought out a response in Gus Neville did not want to share in. He felt like a bleeding peeping-tom. She swung a cast iron skillet around in her hand confidently, other hand on a hip, grinning wickedly.

Obviously thinking along the same lines.

_I need Pansy to trust me, she's been hunted by these idiots for years, please don't make things worse just because you wanna get your rocks off!_

"Now what did I tell you, honey, that man does not hate your guts," Stella purred. Literally. "Meow!"

"Uh… I found Mr. Longbottom at the front door," Wayne said cautiously, giving Pansy the strangest look. "Are you… alright?"

"Oh hon, she's juuust fine now," Stella said. "She's bone tired, it's much easier to take over when she's in such a delicate state."

"Yes," Gus added with a grin. "He's exhausted and not sleeping properly. All these dreams they've been sharing, we should show them how it's done, should we not Stella?"

"We could do whatever we wanted," Stella dropped the iron to the ground carelessly and stepped over the knocked out man, standing in front of him looking like a treat.

"Yes, we could," he brought a finger up to her cheek, though Neville tried to take control back. "We're finally together..."

A throat cleared. They both turned to look at Wayne, having forgotten about him entirely. "Uh, Ms. Pansy, if you can hear me, sorry about this."

His wand came up with a bang! Then everything went black.


	17. Chapter 17

"She's tougher than me. More skilled with a wand. Could easily karate-chop my spine down the middle with her pinky finger. Eats nails for breakfast. But if I find her smoking again, I'm going to smash her face with my egg pan." - _Pansy to Gerry as she painted glass._

Pansy rolled out of bed with a groan, clutching her head like it would fall off if given the chance. And why shouldn't it? When it felt twice as big as normal and throbbed with all the pain of every headache she ever had in her entire life twice over.

Was that a bit dramatic? Sure. Did she care? Nope.

Disoriented didn't accurately describe her current state.

She stumbled over to her bedroom door, pausing to lean against the frame for a second. "Mattie? Are you here?" she called, voice rough with grit. She didn't remember going to sleep.

"In the kitchen," came Mattie's voice. The only relief in this whole migraine.

Her stumble continued down the hallway toward Mattie's voice. "Please tell me there's coffee."

"Oh, there's plenty of coffee."

"I don't remember…" she groaned. "Ugh, I don't remember falling asleep. My head is killing me."

Pansy got to the kitchen doorway and paused, blinking several times. The bright morning light she usually loved nearly blinded her, but for certain, Harry Potter sat at her kitchen island. Along with Hermione Granger, Draco, Wayne, and Gerry.

She should have asked why all her bodyguards were here at the same time, when they usually rotated shifts. Why Draco and Hermione were together again. Why her head hurt so badly and if that had something to do with the fact that she couldn't remember last night very well.

Oh and why the hell Harry Potter was in her home.

And why, on her kitchen island, there sat an unopened, bloody package.

Instead, she turned around and promptly threw up her mostly empty stomach. Fear rattling her bones as she remembered last night. A shadow. Stella taking control. The fight.

But this package...? The intruder must have left it when he invaded her home.

 _Oh, honey,_ Stella whispered softly in her mind as the taste of acid filled her mouth. She sounded quite worried. _You'll be just fine._

"I won't," she argued. It was happening. Word had gotten out about the kerfuffle in Diagon Alley.

_I won't let anything happen to you, baby girl._

"You ARE happening to me, Stel..."

_Well... besides that..._

Pansy got the impression of a smile, full of charm and laughter. Of bouncing curls and sunshine.

Standing up, head feeling less achy after her vomiting, Pansy turned back around and stepped into the kitchen, head held high. After all, this was her home. Her uninvited guests would just have to put up with her throwing up and rinsing her mouth in the kitchen sink. Manners be damned.

After several minutes under the faucet, she dried her face with a kitchen towel and turned to face the music.

Or rather, the bloody package. And why did it have to be so bloody? Was blood always that red? It was unopened, but she knew Gerry had gone over it with everything he had, since he sat completely still at the furthest bar stool, wand on the counter top in front of him. His blue eyes were watching her like a hawk.

With a steady hand, she lifted the top flap of the package and peeked in.

_What creeps! What kind of monster would do that!?_

She pushed the package away, turning her head at the same time. "How did he get in? How did he bypass the wards?"

"They're broken," Draco said, his voice even. But she could tell even he was infuriated, being the one that recommended the man who put the wards up in the first place. Obviously, they weren't impenetrable as advertised.

"Can you please find someone to replace them for me? Money is not an issue," she reminded Draco. "Gerry, please take this off my property at once."

"Right away, boss," he stood without another word and took the package from the room. Along with it the horrendous smell of death and gore.

"And you," she finally turned to Harry. "It would be very beneficial to my health if no one else knew you were here."

"Hermione filled me in," he said softly, assessing the situation. He didn't seem hostile or mean-natured and Pansy realized her mental image of the man had been warped incorrectly by years of harassment. "The man who broke into your home is in my custody."

"I'm sure he's quite happy about it too," Mattie said in a snarky voice but Pansy would be lying if she said she hadn't thought the came thing.

"We can use Harry's fame to our favor in this case," Hermione told the room. "Everything I read about The Brotherhood of the Chosen says they see him as their deity, for lack of a better word."

"So," Mattie continued in a mean temper. "We ask them so nicely to stop trying to murder Ms. Parkinson. That seems like it'll work out well."

"Mattie," Pansy warned.

_She's right baby doll, it doesn't matter what this Potter fellow does. Those people have a scent, they aren't going to back off just because daddy-o says so._

"What are they? Bloodhounds?" she mumbled under her breath.

_Might as well be._

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Pansy crossed her arms and turned to Wayne, who seemed far quieter than usual. "What happened last night? I can't seem to recall much detail."

Wayne's dark eyes turned down. "Your head hurts Ms. Pansy because I had to Blast you and Mr. Longbottom apart last night when it became obvious neither of you were in control of yourselves. I thought you were about to engage in… activities you would rather… not…"

_Well, that's diplomatic of him. Sweet boy, he comes from my neck of the woods. His mama brought him up proper._

She walked over and kissed him on his cheek. "Thank you. Thank you very much, Wayne."

The idea of her body being used in such a way, having sex with a stranger while her consciousness was only in the background, terrified her in a way she didn't know she could be scared. Something Stella didn't seem to understand.

 _You're afraid of being hurt,_ she argued. _Gus would never hurt us and you know what hon, neither would that stud my husband's wearing. He's made of good stuff, I can tell._

"Aren't you so lucky," Pansy snapped. Then winced at Wayne's confused reaction. "Not you."

_Where is that stud, by the by?_

She looked around for Neville, suddenly remembering seeing his face in the living room. Remembered the heart pounding feeling of standing so close...

"He's asleep," Mattie said, guessing at her thoughts. Her tone only slightly less hostile when aimed at Pansy. "I'm going outside."

"Uh uh," Pansy stomped over, suddenly angry and wanting to cry her eyes out. She reached into Mattie's back pocket and pulled out an unopened pack of cigarettes. "I catch you smoking even one of these and… and…"

"And what?" Mattie snapped, snatching the pack back. "You'll fire me? Good, then I can go after these bastards on my own."

Pansy took the pack and tore it into pieces before throwing it, rather violently, into the sink. "You smoke one cig, ONE, and... and... NO MORE JAM!"

Mattie screamed in frustration and stomped out the backdoor, "You're a bitch Parkinson. A dumb bitch! And I hate working for you-" The sliding door slammed shut and cut off the rest of her rant.

"This place is very strange," Hermione said to Harry.

"The jam is really that good," Draco told Hermione, then started when he realized exactly who he was talking to. He awkwardly turned away, cheeks turning pink.

"She's just upset she wasn't here," Wayne informed them. "Mattie takes this kinda stuff personally."

"I get the feeling you all do, in your own way," Harry commented looking from Wayne to Pansy. "You pay them to guard your home, but they would do it anyways, wouldn't they?"

"No," she shook her head, denying it immediately. "Of course not… Wayne, come on, you would not work for free, you have a wife and a child to support."

Wayne seemed to consider it for a moment, making Pansy feel even more antsy than she was previously feeling. His Latin dark eyes soft in the morning light. "I wouldn't be able to work as much, but if you couldn't afford to pay my salary, I'd find a way to work and help out."

"Wayne, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard," Pansy yelled. The urge to cry was getting stronger, the image of that package burned deep. "Why would you work for nothing?"

"It's not nothing," he argued quietly. "You bought Elise's crib when she was born, you feed my family at least twice a week, and… well.. the jam."

"You would work for jam?" Pansy snapped, her throat growing thick, she just didn't know why she was being so emotional. "Jam. Wayne? Jam!"

"No," he argued, his cheeks going even darker. "I'd work for you, Ms. Pansy. So would Matt, so would Gerry. You're worth it, always."

_Why are you upset with him? Your guards are loyal. That's a good thing._

"Because… because…" Pansy sucked in a hard breath. "They might target you, Wayne. Might target your family. This is different."

Now that the words were out, she realized exactly where her fear and anxiety were coming from. Why she choked up. The package had been stuffed with what had once been a cat, a black and white cat. Poor defenseless thing. "That _package_ , it's disgusting, but it's not the usual fare. They broke into my home to drop it off, to mess with my head. I don't have family they can go after, Wayne. They're going to go after you!"

She ran to the back door, wrenched it open and shouted, "MATILDA GRACE PRENDERGAST GET INSIDE THIS HOUSE!"

Across the wooded yard, she caught sight of big hair with a bright yellow ribbon and an extremely rude hand gesture. "Get bent, Parkinson!"

"It's not safe!" she shouted.

"So come stay with me."

Pansy whirled around. Everyone else did too. To look at Neville as he stood in the doorway looking like he just woke up. In hell.

"You're the last person I can be alone with right now."

 _Yes, do it. Do it!_ Stella practically shouted the words.

"Look, this," Neville lifted his wrist, jingling the silver and gold linked bracelet in her direction. "I'm sure there's a solution for this, I dunno what it could be, but I know there's one out there. But The Brotherhood? Longbottom Keep is the second to last place they would ever look for you."

"Where's the last?" Draco asked with a hefty tone of suspicion.

"My house," Harry said, turning to look back at her. "Nev is right. Keep the guards here at your home to keep up pretenses while you go sort out this whole possession thing."

Pansy looked around from face to face, friend and foe, thinking of the cut up bits that had been shoved into that package and left on her kitchen counter as a threat. A warning. It didn't take much to nod in agreement, her throat closing up. Being alone with Longbottom, being possessed… it was scary and concerning to be sure. But if the Brotherhood got a hold of her?

She'd be deader than a doornail. Pansy tilted her head in question. What the hell did that even mean?


	18. Chapter 18

"Mattie is my best friend, do we hate each other with a burning passion? Absolutely. I would still die for her. Except, I've hired her to make sure I don't die so would she die to save me from dying for her? Yes, and she would definitely yell at me while doing it." - _Pansy to Draco Malfoy over a cup of spiked eggnog._

Harry made it a priority to link Neville and Pansy's Floo and question the intruder while Hermione went to research on spirit possession through inanimate objects. Draco promised he would find someone suitable to redo the wards on her home. Neville left to ready Longbottom Keep and Wayne went home to his family with all of her remaining jam stash.

Mattie stood next to her as she packed a suitcase, standing at the foot of her bed. The sunlight filtered in through the massive stained glass behind the bed. She did it years ago, when she first moved in, but the design was so beautiful it still caught her breath on occasion.

"I have major doubts about this, Matt," Pansy shook her head, gently folding her clothes before putting them into her case.

"It's a sound plan, except for not taking one of us with you," she practically growled. "When was the last time you were _alone_?"

"Truly alone," Pansy breathed out the words, trying to imagine… "The bird feather. I hired Gerry the next day. I was 18."

The letter that attended the cursed feather had put the sour taste of fear into her mouth, a taste she never lost. One touch of that feather had started to turn her hand into stone. Good luck that Theodore Nott had been visiting her at the time she decided to open her mail. The wizard had just started studying to be a Curse Breaker and stopped the progression long enough for her to get real help. Quick enough even she couldn't tell that the tips of her fingers had turned completely to stone at one point.

"Years, then, since the last time you were alone."

"But I won't be alone, Neville will be there."

"Oh, Neville," Mattie mocked. "You know I looked him up? Doesn't have a job. Living in his family home. Apparently went 'traveling' to clear his head the year after the war. There's also that whole bit where he's possessed by a malevolent spirit."

" _Not malevolent_ ," Pansy said at the same time Stella did. Her words blended with Stella's a little too flawlessly.

_You tell 'em, hon. I'm not malevolent, just naughty. Meeeow._

"I thought you said the plan was sound," Pansy complained. "You're supposed to assure me, not give me more doubts."

"No. What I'm supposed to do is protect you, something I can't do if we're split up."

Mattie unwrapped two pieces of gum and popped them in her mouth but Pansy dropped the unmatching socks she held and in a move completely uncharacteristic of her personality, she hugged Matt. Hard.

"Ugh, get away from me," Mattie pushed at her, but if she really didn't want Pansy hugging her, she would have done something more substantial about it than wiggle uncomfortably.

"No, I read somewhere you're supposed to say 'I love you' to your friends more often than our generation does," Pansy tightened her hug. "I love you."

"You don't have friends. We aren't friends. You hired me," Mattie finally pushed her away. "Pack your damn bags, you lunatic. Here."

She dug out a small piece of metal, silver, beaten into a rough round shape. In the center was a small red stained piece of glass. It filled her with delight. "Mattie! Did you make this?"

"Lord no," Mattie's face scrunched up into disgust. "Look, I have the matching piece."

A second piece in the same shape came from her opposite pocket, the glass the same deep shade of red. "Brush your finger here," Mattie directed, rubbing the pad of her forefinger against the glass.

Both sets turned to a potent, deep orange.

Pansy tried it for herself, completely mesmerized. Running her finger over the glass. It felt like wet paint but her finger came away clean. The glass turned into a brilliant yellow. "It's stunning, Mattie."

"It cycles through the rainbow. If you're in trouble, leave it on red. I'll come get you," she took the glass from Pansy's hand and shoved it into Pansy's jean pocket. "And you better not do anything stupid like last night when you suddenly decided to get involved and be the hero, Parkinson."

Pansy couldn't help the smile on her face even though Mattie walked away without another word. The witch wasn't prone to affectionate acts, and neither was she if she were to be honest. But the silver in her hand, the glass center singing to her soul, told Pansy exactly how much Mattie cared.

"Except…" Mattie reappeared in her bedroom door, popping yet another piece of gum. What an addict. "If Longbottom tries anything with you, it's perfectly acceptable to hit him in the head with an iron skillet."

Pansy smiled and turned back to her packing, feeling more hopeful. Barely ten seconds passed before she heard a throat clearing. "She meant for me to hear that, right?"

_Thank God almighty!_

"Definitely," Pansy nodded in Neville's direction, ignoring the voice in her head. He looked tired, and he should be if he slept on her couch last night. The love seat was far too short and far too formal to be a comfortable sleeping place. But maybe gruff was a good look on him.

However, he wasn't paying attention to her answer, his eyes blinking in awe behind her.

She stepped aside to give him the full view and not because it gave her more time to observe him. From floor to ceiling behind her canopy bed was a stained glass window she designed and painted. She modeled the tree after an old white oak. A thick, richly brown tree trunk with hefty branches that hosted wide, green leaves that fluttered in the wind with a soothing sound.

The only magic she could do.

She just never expected to be sharing it with Neville Longbottom of all people. She didn't know anything about him and yet she was about to move in with him for an undetermined amount of time.

_Go on then, honey. Ask. You can't get up the river until you start paddlin'._

…

"I have no idea what that means."

Neville didn't look away from the window but his lips turned up at the edges. "Stella?"

He would understand, she realized, the strangeness of having another personality in her head. It made her feel included, though no weirder a private club existed. She conjured up her best attempt at an American Southern accent. "Ya can't get up the riva un-til ya start a-paddalin'."

_Excuse me? What is that accent?_

Neville laughed then slapped a hand over his mouth. "Gus says you better not ever insult his wife like that again."

"Whew, yeah, Stel is angry at me for that one. But if you don't like it, maybe you should get out of my head," Pansy added stubbornly.

_Oh no problem, babydoll. Just give me a few hours with my husband._

"Damn horny ghost," she bit down on her lip when their eyes met. And she realized how stunning his eyes were. A golden brown to her soft silver.

He started laughing again, his entire face lighting up. "That's all they want, isn't it? A night in bed. I wonder why?"

That was a good question. "Stel?"

_None of your damn business._

"What, are you mad at me?" Pansy wanted to laugh. "You know imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

_I don't much care for flattery._

Strange how Pansy could almost see a nose being turned up to the air, a flash of bouncing blonde curls and deep green eyes. But the feeling flitted away as quickly as it came.

"Maybe we could find out on our own," Pansy suggested. He seemed interested and they would be spending more time together most definitely. Maybe a little research could be done.

"We _could_ just…" he paused, cheeks turning pink. He seemed surprised at his own suggestion but then he smiled at her again, obviously deciding to shoot his shot. Bold man.

Too bad her stomach turned sour. "Sorry, Longbottom. I have a little something called self-respect."

Her harsh tone effectively killed their sprightly conversation and turned his flirty blush to a red face of embarrassment. "I didn't mean to—that's not what I…"

"I'm ready," she cut him off because she didn't enjoy the ugly feeling messing up her insides.

"Oh," he shook his head, fumbling over his words, hesitantly reaching out for her bag. "Let me get that for you."

"Don't bother," she pulled her strap over her shoulder and brushed past him and his dumbfounded face.

At her white stone fireplace Mattie stood with the small skillet in her hand, aggressively chewing away at her gum. "Remember what I said."

"Don't ride a hippogriff naked?"

A stern frown.

"A friend who is everyone's friend is no friend at all?"

A bigger frown.

"How about," Pansy said, grabbing Floo powder from the ceramic jar Mattie held out for her. "The young witch knows the rules but the old witch knows the exceptions?"

"Have fun playing house with the vagabond, I hope you don't get kidnapped," Mattie sneered, pushing her into fire. As she did, she secured the skillet to the front pocket with a wink.

_You know, I quite like this one._

"Me too," Pansy grinned.

Neville followed with a subdued frown, awkwardly avoiding Mattie as he stepped into the fire with Pansy. He sighed quite heavily before calling out, "Longbottom Keep…" in a tone that said he was starting to rethink this whole thing.


	19. Chapter 19

"It's hard to be sad when you're eating a cookie." - _Hannah to Neville, followed by an entire pack of chocolate pecan shortbread cookies._

Hannah shook the rosewater and witch hazel tonic she bought on a whim and misted it over her face feeling ridiculous. It was supposed to shrink her pores and keep her skin hydrated. She had little faith in the beauty tonic. Nothing could cover up the weeks of manic energy that kept her awake, wondering where the hell it all went wrong?

First, her bunny died. Her Bixxy. She had him since her mum gifted the tiny baby bun to her in 6th year. Three days before Maggie Abbott was murdered by damn Death Eaters. Bixxy was the last thing she had of her mother.

Second, her serious boyfriend broke up with her while she'd been fixing him his favorite dinner, her mum's boeuf bourguignon recipe, and a treacle tart that _she made from scratch!_ It had burnt to a crisp in her oven while Neville told her he didn't love her anymore. Maybe never. He wanted to end their relationship and hoped they could still be friends.

Friends!

Week one post break up went by in a haze. She didn't cry, but only because she was too confused. Sure things hadn't progressed as quickly as she thought they would between them. Every time it seemed like maybe they would take the next step in their relationship, something would come up like when his gran got remarried. Like when the house went into his name. Neville went traveling instead of dealing with it.

But he always came back and that had given her hope.

Week two post break up bought anger. She kept spotting his crap all over her house. Sweaters and his stupid slippers that looked like a bleeding _fern_. Who wanted shrubbery as shoes?! The final straw had been finding his Divina's Chocolate Shop t-shirt. It was so comfortable, she stole it and wore it as a nightgown for _years_. How many times had they gone to that shop and stuffed their faces with gourmet chocolates and expensive coffee drinks. Stupid _coffee_. Why did he love that awful drink so much?!

Why then had they flirted and kissed like two teenagers in the alley between buildings?

Going home afterwards and shagging on every surface of her place.

But no. Apparently that just meant he wanted to be friends.

Week three brought a grim acceptance. She was single. No man, no sex. No gourmet chocolates and cappuccinos and getting lost in the city. No more dreams of getting married and sharing a life together with the only man she ever loved.

Third, just when her best friend forever, sis from another wiz, partner in crime Susan Bones managed to convince her it might be better this way she found out Neville went and snogged Pansy Parkinson!

Of all the people!

That bully gave her hell from year one at school… and _Neville too_! Did he just forget what a terror that witch was in school?

"Oh god," she shouted at her vanity. "I'm such an idiot!"

A shuffling outside her bedroom. The door swinging open. "Hannah Banana?"

She spun around quickly, rose-hazel witch-water whatever tonic flying across the room. "Oh, Susan! It's just you."

Susie danced into Hannah's bedroom, kicking off her shoes. "Forget lunch."

Her heart sank. She'd been looking forward to a girl's date all week. "You have class?"

"No," Susan grinned, pulling her bag around to the front and unzipping the top pocket with zeal. From the bag she pulled out not one, but two wine bottles. Big ones. Red and Pink. "Liquid diet sound good to you?"

"God, yes," Hannah ran forward and grabbed the bottle of red from Susan's right hand.

"I have something else for you too," Susan dropped her bag to the floor and jumped on Hannah's bed. "A little pick me up."

Her cheerful mood became infectious and Hannah jumped up on the bed too. "I need a big one."

"Ha, that's what she said," Susie grinned, and pulled from her pocket….

"Ohh… a little pick meeee up…" Hannah giggled excitedly and jumped across the room, grabbing her wand.

Susan flopped down on her bed and leaned back on the pillows while Hannah held her wand out and conjured fire in her opposite palm. "Just to take the edge off, my perfect, lovely friend."

It didn't take long before the two of them devolved into giggles, smoking and drinking their wine, going full tilt on girl talk. Her spirits rose in no time as they talked about everything and anything.

Until the conversation turned to dating.

"No, that subject is the one subject that's off limits, Sus."

"Ba-na-naa, c'mon girl. I know you. It's the one thing you want to talk about. And you know me, I'll tell it to you straight… whatever is on your mind."

Groaning, Hannah slid off the bed, feeling boneless, and spread out on the floor. "Maybe that's the problem. I don't want the truth. I wish I didn't know about Pansy stupid Parkinson kissing my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend."

Susan followed her to the floor, laying down right next to her. Their hair mixed together. Vibrant red with sunshine yellow. "Maybe I know a bit about that."

She realized what Susan was trying to do, but all she could focus on was the fact that her bff and Neville were still friends, despite the fact the man completely broke her heart. "You know, you were my friend first. Why are you still talking to him? You should be helping me curse his underwear to be too tight and turn his hair funny colors."

"Look if he did something horrible, like cheated on you or something equally scummy, I'd be first in line to curse those tightie whities so tight they cut off his blood circulation and all his appendages fall off. Every last one of them," Susan threatened with an evil grin, one that Hannah had no problem interpreting. "But… Everything we went through," Susan rolled up onto her side, smile fading for the first time. "We made it out alive, we can't walk away from each other after that."

"He can."

"He's not walking away from you, Banana. He's just a man who hasn't a clue what he wants."

All that she knew already, but she had to live with it and that was the hard part. Reminding herself it was important to remember not to want someone who didn't want you back. Move on to find someone worth her time. But right then, right at that very moment… she wanted to scream and curse Neville's name. Bash his head in with the backside of broomstick. And make things go back to the way they were before.

"He wants Pansy Parkinson. Seriously, I thought she died in the battle. She dropped off the face of the earth after the war."

"Hmm. Maybe she's nicer now."

"Yeah right, how high are you?"

"As high as you are."

Another round of giggles.

"Forget about Pansy. I'm sure there's an… explanation… maybe. And if it makes you feel any better," Susie whispered with delight. "That bracelet you gave him? Right before he broke things off? Yeah, he can't get it off."

A slow, slow grin to match Susan's formed on her face. She found the thing at the thrift shop in Diagon Alley thinking it looked a little bit like him. The silver and gold links kind of manly, but still jewelry. And the gold kind of matched the color of his eyes. But the idea that he was _stuck_ with a permanent reminder of her…

Maybe it was a little too vindictive, but at that moment she felt downright gleeful for it. "Good. Yes. Oh yes, that does make me feel better. Or it might be the wine, but probably that. Yes."

They giggled some more.

"Listen, do what you want. It's your life, but maybe, I don't know, go over there and have a good conversation with him. As friends."

"Friends?" Hannah leaned back and hit her head on the floor. "Owww…"


	20. Chapter 20

"Artists create what they know. How can you make anything if you never leave this glass box prison you call a home?" - _Mattie to Pansy after five days without a cigarette._

He left her alone for a few hours, allowing time to settle into her room. It was huge. And strangely empty. The bed seemed brand new. Unpolished wood canopy, no drapes, and a firm mattress that still had plastic covering over it. A fresh set of sheets and a thick down comforter sat folded up at the foot of the bed.

The walls were a deep green but she could see the outline where frames once hung against the wall. Where furniture once sat for years. A double wide balcony door was open, allowing fresh air into the room. The hardwood floors matched the dark polish on those doors. A single rocking chair sat in the corner and nothing else.

No wardrobe or dresser. Just a big, open space.

She dropped her bag by the bed and dragged the rocker out onto the balcony, her room on the top floor. Longbottom Keep came by its name honestly. A five story tower that looked every bit like the corner of a castle, dusty black stone and arched windows. A giant rectangle that grew into the sky.

Much like the man who brought her here. It wasn't that he was so tall, but his presence when he stood next to her made Pansy feel like she was in danger. It wasn't the same as her seriously tall bodyguards—and their looming.

Neville didn't loom. He towered.

As soon as he left her side, she breathed a sigh of relief and she hadn't the faintest clue why.

Pansy sat in the rocker all afternoon, staring out into the wooded area that surrounded the property. It gave her comfort, those trees, swaying in the summer breeze, and reminded her of her own home. She even spotted an apricot tree down below with ripe pieces of fruit.

Maybe she could make jam.

Jam gave her comfort. She knew what to do with jam. How much sugar to use with which fruit. How long to let it boil. What it was supposed to look like before she took it off the heat.

Stella was oddly silent, giving her a moment of peace she desperately needed. It might have been the cat, poor animal, that kept them both docile and still all afternoon. Or it might have been Pansy's mockery of Stella's accent, but she thought not. Pansy got the feeling that the spirit in her head didn't much care for what others thought.

Even the host she inhabited.

Just when she thought to ask Stella if she was alright Pansy heard a rather loud thump outside of the bedroom door. Her heart sped up as her throat grew thick. There were no bodyguards here to protect her. No Mattie to drive her crazy. No Wayne to give her warmth and comfort. No Gerry to make her feel like there was nowhere safer.

But that was the plan. No one would consider looking for her here and she had to trust that. Lay low for a bit and hope the whole situation would blow over.

Pansy made her way to the door and opened it, holding on to that hope. She found Neville shoving a large dresser down the hall towards her room. It was bigger than large. It was huge. Five rows of drawers and a middle section where a built-in shelf sat behind a clear glass door.

"Need help?" she offered upon seeing the sweat on his brow. Why didn't he just use his wand?

"Goddesses, yes," he panted. "Got this thing for a steal but only because it's Magic Resistant. My neighbor's. Barnaby Blighfler, his granddad charmed it so his ex wife would stop levitating his trousers through the window in the middle of the night. Poor guy passed last week. Barny just about gave up on the thing when he realized it wasn't just the contents that couldn't be levitated, but the whole damn dresser."

She grabbed onto the side closest to her and pulled with all her might. "Hell! That's heavy!"

"You'd think the charm would lift with his passing, wouldn't you? But Barny said his granddad was stubborn."

"It happens," Pansy pulled when Neville pushed. The dresser barely moved. "How on earth did you get this thing up 4 flights of stairs?"

He sighed and paused, leaning against his side of the dresser. "I was fine until the last set. Honestly. Bit winded now though."

"Take a break," she suggested, mirroring his position. "Do you pray to the Goddesses?"

He wiped at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "Probably not as often as I should. My gran taught me to, but my Uncle Algie is Catholic. They're often at odds with one another so I grew up ignoring them best I could. Can't stand another holiday dinner full of Goddesses vs Saints."

"They don't like being ignored," she smirked. The Goddesses, not his gran and uncle.

He grinned back at her, understanding exactly who she meant. "Probably why I'm possessed. Punishment for improper worship."

"Ah what else are they there for, but to be blamed for the plights of mortals?" Pansy laughed when he did, their conversation easy despite their earlier tension.

"Alright, I'm almost there with this damn thing, might as well get it done now." Then his cheeks turned red. "I meant… darn thing. I apologize."

She stepped aside to let him work, a forgiving feeling unfolding as he apologized for his poor language. Earlier, his lewd suggestion upset her for certain. But mostly it had been the frustration of the situation, the intruder in her home and the unwanted package he left her, having to leave her home for the unknown.

Now, Neville seemed to be walking on eggshells around her, afraid of crossing a line. He could have been behaving much, much worse she realized. They could be at each other's throats, throwing insults and bullying one another. Instead, she rather liked this respectful side of a man who was predisposed to hate her.

Shove by shove, he got the massive dresser down the hall and into her room. She helped… a little bit. "Where do you want it?"

A shrug. "I'm just a guest, put it where you want it. You didn't get it just for me, right?"

He didn't argue, putting it against the wall directly across from the bed. "You need a dresser."

"What if I'm only here for a few days?"

He blew out a breath and wiped his forehead again. "Then you'll have a dresser for a few days. Dinner? I'm starving, I was thinking of getting some curry."

"Take away?" she asked, surprised. She always cooked. "Sure. I'll treat."

"Great!" he seemed genuinely happy. "Let's go."

"Uh, I'm supposed to be laying low remember?"

He rolled his eyes. "Will you please shut up?"

She waited before responding, instinct saying he wasn't speaking to her, but rather the ghost in his head. She recognized that particular vein of frustration. Gus was probably driving him crazy. "I assume you aren't talking to me like that," she mocked glared.

"Gus," he pointed to his head. Then made a spinning motion with his head, indicating he was crazy. Did he have this much personality in school?

"Stella's been a bit quiet, I'm a little worried honestly," she admitted, and they both waited to see if it would invoke a response. "Quite _worrrrried_ ," she reiterated.

Neville suppressed a grin.

"Usually," Pansy continued, giving a bit of attitude. "I can't get her to shut up."

 _Poor kitten_ , Stella whispered softly in her mind. _I can't stop thinking about him._

"Oh, she's-"

"Upset about the cat?" Neville guessed, pointing to his head again. But his smile faded and his face took on a hard edge as he thought about the events leading them to both be there, together. "Look, Harry is on the fast track to Head Auror and I'm between jobs right now. I'd like nothing more than to make sure no one else can hurt you or anyone else in Harry's name."

Pansy's breath caught unexpectedly, and not because Stella said, _Ha! I told you so._

He left to get food without another word, and Pansy only panicked for four and a half minutes at the idea of being totally alone. No guards, no friends, no heroes, just herself. She only came out of the anxiety attack when Stella started humming, making her realize she was wrong. She wasn't alone.

Stella could defend them, like she did against the intruder.

"But I can't live with a ghost in my head for the rest of my life," Pansy said softly.

It spurred her to explore the rest of the house, heading downstairs and poking around, though she didn't go through any doors that were closed. It wasn't just her room that seemed to be missing furniture. Longbottom Keep implied this was a family home. Clearly, that family had moved out. She wondered who and why. Admittedly, she didn't know anything about the Longbottom's, other than they were Pureblood.

And that didn't mean anything these days.

She tried to find a picture or portrait of the family, but the wood paneled walls were completely bare, except on the main floor, towards the front, on the wall across from the front door was a giant round clock made of metal. Sleek, bright aluminum. Too modern to go with the wood paneling.

The longer she looked at the intricate metal work, the more detail she noticed.

She liked it. A lot.

She came around another corner and recognized the Floo room. An eight foot tall, black stone fireplace and a shelf for Floo powder and assorted herbs that needed attention in a desperate manner. And a blonde witch who was holding an empty wine bottle. A big wine bottle.

The witch took one look at her and pouted, her rich brown eyes filling with tears. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh…"

"You're living here aren't you?" she wailed, breaking down into drunken sobs. Literally, she clumsily fell back on her bottom, legs splaying out and wine bottle in the air. "I knew he left me for someone else, I'm such an id-id-idiot!"

Pansy recognized her as Hannah Abbott—they went to school together. But she hadn't a clue about what she spoke of. And worse, she seemed truly distressed, likely made worse by the alcohol Hannah obviously consumed. Wine never helped. Pansy made sure to steer clear of alcohol at all times, because she knew the effects it had on her and her emotions.

Approaching slowly, Pansy carefully extracted the wine bottle from Hannah's death grip. "There there, uhm, do you know where you are?"

A gasping hiccup. "Are you serious right now?"

"Help me out here, Hannah," Pansy said, deliberately using her name to keep her attention. "I haven't seen you since… since…"

"The-final-ba-ba-battle," Hannah sobbed, snot running down her pretty face. "When you said I sh-should get out of the way when that b-bi-big statue of Alfin the Medic almost fell on me-me-meee!"

Pansy wanted to be annoyed, but Hannah's sorrow seemed pure. Heartbroken. Pansy knew that feeling well and when she experienced it, she had no one to lean on.

 _Poor thing_ , Stella whispered in the same tone she spoke of the brutalized cat earlier. Pansy agreed. Hannah seemed every bit like puppy left out in the rain. _Is our guy the one who broke her heart?_

Oh, maybe it was Neville. After all, Pansy spotted Hannah running through the front door the first time she came to Longbottom Keep. And now she thought Pansy was living here? Neville left her for Pansy? What a mess.

"Hannah," Pansy said softly, coming down on her haunches beside the crying witch. She carefully used her arm sleeve to wipe at Hannah's face. "I'm not seeing Neville, we are not together."

"I… really?" she hiccuped, quieting down.

"Come on, let's get you some water," Pansy suggested, helping them both up. She had a bad moment when she realized she didn't know where the kitchen was but Hannah seemed to know, so Pansy kept up with her.

"I was fine until Susan left," Hannah explained, slurring a bit. "We spent all day together and she really made me feel better but as soon as she left for class—I can't deal with being alone."

And that Pansy knew all too well.

Hannah continued her drunken rant as she collapsed into a breakfast nook Pansy hadn't noticed, hiccuping every other word. Pansy listened while she searched for a cup, finding some small juice glasses in the cupboard by the sink. A deep sink with 6 different faucets. She tested the first one and found clear ice cubes. The second one turned out to be water.

She also grabbed a towel from the dish rack and set both it and the glass down in front of Hannah. Who asked, "Have you ever been-" Hic! "-dumped?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Pansy slid into the seat across from Hannah and settled in for a conversation she couldn't predict with any certainty. Maybe the girl just needed a distraction though. "Hugh Higgly-Hughes."

"Of the Hughes Family?" Hannah asked, suddenly quite interested.

"You've met them, they all do that," Pansy rolled her eyes. " _'Of the Hughes family'_ ," she mocked with a high pitched, stringy voice.

"Yes! God, just because they have more money than half the world combined doesn't mean they can act so entitled," Hannah stuck her tongue out. "My cuz dated a Higgly-Hugh."

Pansy found herself smiling the smile of a young girl in love, remembering what she thought had been her first serious relationship. "Hugh didn't act arrogant at first, though. He was charming. It was candlelit dinners and strolls through the park and staying up all night just _talking_."

"Ohhh," Hannah leaned forward on her elbows, enraptured by Pansy's story. "I love that. Nevvy and I used to do that kind of stuff...kinda..."

Her words came with a fresh pout, remembering what she lost. It was too much for the pretty witch. Her brown eyes crossed as her head came forward, banging into the small table with a loud _thump_!

"Oof," Pansy sat back as Hannah started snoring. Loudly. Breakups were hard. And she couldn't help but wonder why Neville would break up with Hannah. The woman was stunning. Like drop dead gorgeous beautiful. And she seemed sweet between the bouts of sobbing.

Deciding to help out, Pansy stood and managed to get a shoulder under Hannah, who groaned. "Come along, honey," she cooed sweetly, ignoring how _Stella_ -like she sounded. "Let's go lay down for a bit."

Together they stumbled out of the kitchen and up the first stair way, the second, third, and fourth, until Pansy got them to the room Neville set up for her. Except Pansy forgot the bed wasn't made yet. Another "Oof," and Pansy set Hannah down in the rocker. Good thing the witch was so slight.

Humming, she stripped off the plastic and got to making up the bed with the fresh set of sheets. They smelled of something sweet, maybe jasmine. A feminine scent she didn't expect from a single 24 year old guy.

_He did it for you, baby doll._

"Oh?" she unfolded the comforter and turned it down. Well, Hannah would get to enjoy the clean sheets this time. Pansy helped her to the bed where Hannah collapsed face down for a final time. "I wish someone had done that for me."

_What do you mean by that?_

Pansy left Hannah alone, gently shutting the door on loud snores. "How did you react after your first love ended?"

_It never did. I met Gus when I was 17._

"Where at?" Pansy asked, intrigued and also ready to get more information on the spirit currently possessing her.

_New York City, New York. Christmas time. I went north with daddy for a business trip, he worked in textiles. Took me shopping at the department stores, dinner at the plaza, then ice skating at the park and there was Gus. Watching me the whole time. We ran away together the next day._

"Love at first sight?" she smiled, despite herself. She didn't believe in such a thing. Attraction could be quick. Interest in an instant. It didn't take much to spark a fire between two people in the right situations. A certain look or the perfect smile. But love? Not even the lovesick fool in Pansy's head could convince her such a thing existed for everyone.

_Don't be so cynical, you're too young, honey._

"Not cynical, just realistic," she insisted, feeling the need to defend herself. She leaned against the closed door and rubbed her temples. "You call me young but I don't know how old you are."

_Why, I never. Didn't you know it's rude to ask a woman's age?_

"Didn't you know it's rude to possess someone and force them to act against their will?" Pansy countered.

_Hmmpph._

"That's what I thought," Pansy smirked, feeling triumphant. She made her way back downstairs and waited patiently at the breakfast nook, deciding not to snoop around any more in case she ran into another one of Neville's exes. Or anymore Mallards.

She waited until Neville came home, who arrived with a large brown sack when he did. She could smell the spicy pepper smell of curry and a rather strong hint of lime.

He smiled at the sight of her but asked, "This is weird for you too, right?"

Yes, she felt way out of her comfort zone, at a total loss on what to expect. And… "It's about to get weirder."


	21. Chapter 21

"Gran's leaving. I have two choices. Stay and take care of my ancestral home or continue traveling like I've been. I can't afford both... and it doesn't really feel like a choice." - _Neville to Susie and Hannah after a proper cry._

He had a feeling it would be Hannah, but Neville wasn't prepared to see her passed out in his Gran's old bed. It wasn't actually Gran's bed, new frame and all. He bought a new mattress and fresh sheets to go with it. But it had been her room for his whole life. And Hannah…

Hannah was the same as always. Except for the smell of wine practically radiating from her person. She was always a terrible sleeper when drunk and after only a few steps into the room she blinked her eyes open at him.

"Nev, I don't feel so hot," she mumbled.

"Exactly how much did you drink, Banana?"

A sickly groan. "All of it."

He sat on the edge and placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently. "Sweetheart…"

"Stop," she hiccuped. "I can't be touched by you, Nevvy."

"You're sick, let me try to make you feel better..." he begged, feeling queasy himself. Because on one hand, she was definitely in the right. Why did he want to touch her? They were broken up. But on the other hand, "I wanna be friends, Banana. Friends touch."

"Friends..." another hiccup. "I just came to make friendly conversation like Susie said but I saw Pansy and started crying."

"And she put you to bed?" Neville asked, thinking that might be the last thing he expected out of Pansy Parkinson. He remembered an unhappy, too thin girl at school. A bully.

"Yeah… I don't feel so hot," she repeated again.

Neville took out his wand and summoned a bucket. "I'm going to leave this by the bed, okay? Stay here tonight and feel better."

"I really did just want to talk, Nevvy."

"I know, we can talk tomorrow, Banana," he promised, continuing to rub her shoulders. He did so until she fell back asleep and then, quietly, he stood and closed the balcony doors, pulling shut the new solid black-out curtains to shut out the sun, enclosing the room in darkness, before he left.

_Isn't she a doll?_

Neville didn't respond to Gus. He was going nutty having a second voice in his head, one that disagreed with every decision and move he made and called him 'idiot' and 'chump' every other sentence. One who was starting to get antsy to be with his wife. But Neville couldn't just go off and bang Pansy Parkinson to appease the damn ghost in his head.

One, Pansy was being hunted by what Neville saw as a cult. The more he learned about The Brotherhood of the Chosen, the less he liked. They harassed Pansy for years and he was afraid of what she thought about him and Harry for it.

Two, he was still dealing with his break up from Hannah, which clearly wasn't over yet. He wasn't sure he was ready for it to be over, as hypocritical as that was. He wanted her in his life, just… as friends. And that didn't seem to be happening.

It had been him, Hannah, and Susan since 7th year ended. He fit in with the two Hufflepuff BFFs perfectly, at least... that's what he always thought.

Heart in a tizzy, he left Hannah to sleep it off and returned to the kitchen, his dinner, and his strange houseguest. Pansy requested mild, he asked for his as spicy as possible. He added some spring rolls too, because who didn't like spring rolls? Plus he definitely wanted to eat some feelings. But he wondered if their dinner conversation would be awkward or if they could get past this weird situation they managed to land in.

To make the day even weirder, when he entered the kitchen he spotted her at the breakfast nook, not eating the curry in front of her, but holding a soggy bit of green leaf from the dish up to her nose.

Sniffing it and humming in question. She set the leaf down and fished through her curry with a spoon, finding another piece. She sniffed that one too. Eyes slightly closed, a look of concentration making her face seem shorter.

"Hey," he started, waiting by the door.

"Everything okay with Hannah?" she asked kindly, not pausing her strange behavior.

"She's a crier when she drinks, but I think she's okay. Thank you for helping her," and that reminded him he didn't really know this witch anymore.

But everyone changed a bit when they grew up, didn't they? It seemed Pansy became an oddball after school. Maybe from years of self-imposed solidarity. She continued to smell the leaves for another minute before she turned her head and looked at him, her silver eyes shining. "Did you want to eat together?"

"Uh, sure," he shook his head to get his mind straight and joined her at the nook with a few napkins. "Oh, you were waiting for me?"

"I usually cook dinner for my guards," she said, finally taking a bite. "We eat together."

The movement of her mouth fascinated him. He never watched someone savor a bite of food before. But Pansy did, her plump lips moving over each other as she focused on tasting the food. "Good?" he asked, silently reminding himself to eat his own food and stop looking at Pansy's lips.

The fascination wasn't his own. It was Gus. The ghost knew that within Pansy was the spirit of his wife, whom he loved dearly. Seriously. Neville could _feel_ it.

"I do like it," she assured him. "Maybe I should have tried it a bit spicier?"

_You like her._

He ignored Gus, glad to see he was much better at resisting him after a long sleep, even when that sleep was him knocked out unconscious, and they ate in silence for several minutes. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't horrible either. He wanted to ask more about The Brotherhood, but he sensed the smallest trace of fear in her movements. As if she were trying to conquer it in silence. She probably wanted to talk about Hannah but knew it would be awkward.

He settled on food.

"What do you like to cook?"

She shrugged and remained silent, focusing solely on her meal. The silence edging closer and closer to uncomfortable. He had just about given up when she looked up and said, "I like to try different recipes. Gerry loves meat and potatoes but Matt is vegetarian. Wayne will eat anything as long as it's spicy."

Those damn guards. "And what do you like?"

Silver eyes danced as they watched him, interest lighting up the unique shade. It wasn't the usual silver that often ran in magical families. It looked very much like two full moons shining bright. "My guards suffer through my obsession to make the perfect saffron sauce," she smiled. "A different recipe each week."

"I don't think I've even tried it before," he told her honestly.

_Idiot. Who taught you to flirt with women?_

"I'm not trying to," he added under his breath.

_She's setting you up and you're missing it completely. I don't believe in women doing all the work, chump._

Pansy's eyes gleamed with laughter, catching on easily. The one person who could understand his odd behavior lately. "Stella says you should relax."

"Gus says I'm an idiot."

"Stella says no, you just need a pinch of seasonin'..." her accent not getting better. "Whatever that's supposed to mean."

_My beloved sees the good in everyone. Don't take it to heart._

"I feel like we shouldn't be indulging them," Neville looked down at his dinner and took a big bite.

Pansy finally burst into laughter. Big, resonant laughter that carried through the entire room. It was then he remembered she was _loud_ in school too. It shocked him how someone so small could make so much noise.

"Sorry," she said between laughs. "Stella said-" she took a deep breath, fanning her face. "Stel said she would love to be indulged by you."

 _What!_ -"What?"

"She's just trying to get a rise out of me, I think," Pansy drank deeply from her water glass. "That's how she broke through before. When we were all out in the garden. I was so surprised to see your bracelet matched mine, she took immediate control. And at my home last night she said something that shocked me."

_That's my girl._

Neville thought back to the potion supply shop. "I think I was exhausted. He didn't have a reason to take control until he spotted you, and then I hadn't slept in a week."

Because of the dreams. _Their_ dreams.

Pansy's cheeks heated up as she looked away, clearly remembering. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for me to be here," she said softly, setting aside her utensils, the laughter fading away.

He disagreed, but understood where her trepidation came from. "It _is_ good for you to be here. We can figure this all out and keep you safe at the same time. I don't want anymore unwanted gifts left at your home."

It seemed too quiet now that she wasn't laughing. "Do you really care if I'm safe or not?"

"You and I are possessed by two ghosts who love each other," he answered softly. "But those dreams aren't Gus and Stella."

She shook her head, dark bangs waving across her forehead, the same piqued look coming over her face from earlier. He upset her again, but she didn't direct that anger at him like a normal person. Her mistrust too great.

Instead she said, "So, we shared a few intimate dreams. Maybe you think dream will become reality."

"What… no," he argued. "No. I think you're in my life now, whether or not I wanted it or expected it, doesn't change the fact. And Hannah and I have only been broken up for a few weeks. I can't even think of being with someone else right now."

"Really? Because I got the impression you were the one who broke up with her?"

"So what?" he snapped. "I'm not the kind of guy who can jump in and out of relationships. I didn't break up with her to be with someone else—or because we became bracelet buddies."

"Why then? She's beautiful and it seems she's very much in love with you."

Damn. He took a deep breath. This question came up over and over again from his friends and family and he hadn't been able to give them a sufficient answer. Now Pansy asked him, and he felt like he had to explain himself otherwise she would never trust him.

And he needed that trust if they were going to solve this horny ghost problem.

"I don't love her," he admitted, feeling vulnerable under Pansy's scrutinizing glare. "Maybe… No, no maybe about it. I never did. It dawned on me a few months ago that all we had was sex. Good sex," he laughed sadly. "Really good. But that's it. And sex isn't… love. I don't know, but it felt wrong to continue a relationship when I knew I didn't feel the same as she felt for me. And she doesn't know about this," he added, gesturing to the bracelet. "I haven't told her yet, I don't know how… honestly."

Pansy considered him for a long time. It was unnerving, the way she stared at him. Not blinking. Not moving. Just thinking. A genuine stare off. He thought if he moved or blinked it would be disastrous.

Finally, after what felt like a million years, she said, "I won't say anything, unless she asks."

Breathing out a sigh of relief, he sat back, the tension leaving his shoulders. "That's fair."

"Dinner was good," she added. And he recognized the olive branch for what it was.

"Thanks for treating."

"Do you have a couch or something I could sleep on?"

Oh, yeah. He went from being totally alone to having two women in his home. Maybe if his Gran hadn't taken every piece of furniture in the house with her when she moved in with Erasmus. There used to be 5 guest rooms in this huge house, for family and friends. Now he had empty rooms, a lot of dust, and an insane amount of mallards. Not to forget that dumb partially broken potion vial collection. "Come with me."

He led her up to his room, which he thoroughly took a wand to earlier that day, and to the only other bed in the whole damn house. He would just have to suck it up and go sleep with Hannah. In his Gran's old room.

Yikes.

"You can sleep here tonight. I'll make sure Hannah gets home by tomorrow, I'm sorry for… everything."

She paused at the doorway, looking around at his childhood room. It was the only fully furnished room in the entire house, which is what gave her pause. But he'd seen her room earlier, so it seemed fair that she got to see his. Though hers had seemed like a serene, uncluttered luxury suite compared to his overstuffed, crowded disaster of a bedroom .

"This is your room?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'll go sleep with Hannah."

"Your ex?" she shook her head. "That's ridiculous. This whole situation is ridiculous. I'll just go home."

"No, you can't," he argued. "Not until The Brotherhood is dealt with."

"I'm not going to make you sleep in the same bed as your ex, who is passed out drunk and has no say in this conversation."

"Have the wards been replaced at your house yet? Because if not, then I'm not letting you go back," he told her firmly.

"Excuse me? You won't 'let' me?"

This was getting beyond frustrating. He grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her down on the edge of his bed. Her eyes went round like an owl's. He knew she wasn't used to being touched. But Oh Fucking Well. "Look, maybe since you didn't _hire_ me you don't feel you can trust me. Yeah? So we have to do this the old fashioned way."

He held out his hand for a shake. "I'm Neville. My favorite color is blue. My Patronus is a spectacled bear and I love chocolate and coffee. Let's be something we weren't during school. Friends."

Again he surprised her, he could tell. But beneath all that fear and the strangeness of their situation there was a well of stubbornness that had her lifting her hand to shake his. "Pansy," she said, a bit sassy but by the time she finished speaking, she sounded genuine. "I can't produce a Patronus. I love homemade jam and painting and my favorite color is green. Let's be friends."

_Not bad, chump. Not bad._

"Bathroom is across the way, help yourself to anything, and get some rest."


	22. Chapter 22

"You wouldn't believe the dream I had last night... I... I don't even believe it. I've never felt such a way before." - _Pansy to Mattie the morning after the silver and gold bracelet went on her wrist._

Pansy flossed her teeth and resisted the urge to snoop, going right to bed. She was exhausted. And not even being in a bed that wasn't her own in a room she'd never been in before could stop her from falling right to sleep. These blankets didn't smell like jasmine, they just felt… warm. She slept hard. And she dreamed.

Maybe they agreed to be friends. But in her dream, Neville was between her legs. Pinning her hands down over her head. She couldn't see his face but she could _feel_ him. Moving inside her with a rocking motion that moved their bed, his chest crushing against hers.

It was him, no question. Wide shoulders. Strong. The quick, uneven breaths in her ear sounded like him. And he leaned up, not stopping for even a second, to look down at her with golden brown eyes. He squeezed her hands with his, pinning her harder. Fucking her harder. It was desperate, his passion. She couldn't handle it and she wanted to scream.

"Don't go," he panted, sounding heartbroken and desperate. "Don't go."

Pansy woke with a start, blankets kicked aside and clutching her chest as if her heart would pop right out at any moment. Her body ached in pain, the kind of that came from a lover too rough. "Stella?" She resisted the urge to cry. And failed. What did Pansy know of such things?

_I'm here, sweetheart._

"It's not me," Pansy trembled, regretting the decision to stay in this house. Wishing she could go back in time and throw out Mrs. Grant's gift. Hating the turn her life took. Tears streamed down her face. "It isn't me."

_No, it's not you. You were right before … and I was wrong. It might seem like you and that stud, but it's not. It's us. Gus and I had sex like that once._

Pansy wiped her face with shaking fingers. "You were going to leave him?"

_No, no. I'm just a Muggle, but Gus ... He knows magic. We robbed our way up and down the east coast before we ended up in Boston, the police hot on our tails. But they didn't find us before my daddy did. He said he wouldn't turn Gus in if I came home willingly._

"What happened?" Pansy asked, still out of breath.

_I lied and told daddy I would go home, but only if I could say goodbye to Gus first. But Gus thought I meant it when I said I would go with daddy. He was so angry with me that night. I never forgot the way he touched me._

"What did your father do?" Pansy wondered as her breath finally evened out.

_Gus removed daddy's memory of me, and we stowed away on a big boat. We came to his childhood home, here in England._

"And then you made the bracelets?"

An odd silence followed Pansy's question, Stella clamming right up. But a shuffling sound outside the door caught her attention before she could ask again. She waited, lying in bed, for it to happen again. It didn't, but something else made her certain someone was just on the other side of the door. And after the dream she just had? She kind of hoped it was Hannah, the drunk ex-girlfriend.

Her certainty that someone lurked beyond the bedroom door coupled with the sudden silence from Stella made Pansy sure there was no way in Antheia's garden she would be able to fall asleep again. She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and wiped her face with her palms again, glad to find her cheeks dry.

Weeks of dreams had left her sleep deprived and unsure, even deranged at times, but none of it compared to the dream she just experienced. The raw, exposed feeling completely unfamiliar and unnerving both.

On unsteady legs she walked across the room and pulled opened the door.

Neville sat against the wall right next to her, head back, an elbow thrown over his eyes. He stirred at her presence, coming up on his feet. Her first instinct was to yell at him. It was _his_ idea that she come to stay here, at Longbottom Keep. But Stella's love for Gus nearly toppled her over. Pansy hadn't been in love before, and she didn't know how to handle it.

It was his face she saw in her dreams and his hands she could still feel, pinning her down. Rough against her wrists. And his body deep inside her body.

But the look he gave her stopped the tirade before it could even start. Because he looked just as upset as she felt, put in a situation that didn't make any sense. She realized exactly at that moment how horrible this all was for him, not just herself. After ending a major relationship, being possessed by a hostile spirit, and having to deal with her… she didn't think about it from his point of view.

Not a great start to their friendship.

"I'm a virgin," she shared into the mostly dark hallway for them all to hear. Stella, Gus, and Neville. "Every man I've dated has tried to pressure me into sex before I was ready and with everything that happened… the Brotherhood… it just never happened."

"Then you've dated some real jerks," Neville snapped in a sleep heavy, gruff voice.

"They said the same thing, the both of them," she mentioned Hugh earlier to Hannah. But before Hugh had been Draco. He hadn't meant to be malicious when he told her she needed to put out or else she would end up all alone. Breaking up had been exactly what their relationship needed. They were better as friends. "Put out or be alone. Guess what I choose?"

"You chose yourself," Neville guessed correctly. And he knew it too. He crossed his arms, tired and annoyed. But she didn't think he was annoyed with her. "As you should've, Pansy. Guys who pressure their partners into sex are pricks. A real man doesn't coerce. He _entices_. Your first time? Your 100th? Doesn't matter. It should be special."

Then he threw his arms up with a frustrated grunt. "No as a matter of fact I do not approve of what I saw in my dream, you fucking prick! What kind of man holds a woman down like that?"

_Oohh, he doesn't understand, sweetheart. Explain it to him._

"Well, I don't either, not really," Pansy admitted softly to Stella's whisper. Because she kind relieved at how Neville was responding. It meant she wasn't alone in her confusion and distaste at what she witnessed, what she experienced through the dream.

But it was dual sided, because a big part of her found a different kind of relief at his reaction. What if someone else had gotten the bracelet instead? A different bracelet 'buddy' as Neville coined. Someone who wasn't so pure-hearted, who would take advantage of her predicament.

Neville on the other hand… he was enraged at Gus's actions against Stella. The sex they had too rough, no matter their situation.

_No no, c'mon sweet girl. Haven't you ever been in extremis before? Heart pumping and lungs screaming cause you've been running for your life? Afterwards you just wanna jump your man and never stop?_

"No, actually, I have not," Pansy admitted. "Maybe because I'm not a bank robber, on the run from the authorities, or a total psychopath-"

Neville was also shouting. "I don't give two lollipop licks what you think about me or my bloody generation you old codger!"

_You two are utterly boring, naive fools who don't understand real love. Neither of you have ever known what it's like to love someone so categorically you couldn't imagine life without them!_

"Call me chump one more time-"

"Is that why you did it then?" Pansy shouted at herself, pressing her forehead into the door behind her. The hallway felt far too small for the four of them, even though technically there were just the two. "You put your souls in these bracelets so you would never be without one another after you died? Well you succeeded, and now you get to be together at our expense!"

Pansy turned and propped herself against the door with a frustrated sigh, looking at Neville who had his fists curled in anger and a very stern look on his face. He turned to face her, clearly having his own heated discussion.

But then, he shook his head. "Nope. Not happening. You hear me Gus? You think I'm emotional now? Just you wait, you try to take over me and lay a single hand on Pansy I will find a way to drag your spirit arse into the physical world and beat hell outta you!"

Then he stomped down the stairs, slamming multiple doors on his way before she heard the front door open and close rather violently as if the house was feeling mad right along with Neville.

 _Wow-wee,_ Stella practically moaned. Gus and I aside, hon, that is a man worth getting into trouble with.


	23. Chapter 23

"If we're so in love, why doesn't he take me with him when he goes traveling? Shouldn't we go together? I want a nice tan too!" - _Hannah to Susan over box of homemade chocolate eclairs._

Hannah woke up with a fuzzy taste in her mouth and the kind of instant regret that only came from doing something totally moronic while inebriated.

Like owling an ex a naughty photo. Or worse, sending a hastily written love poem with it. Both of which she did one night after a rather bad fight with Neville. Ernie Mac had laughed it off, but Hannah still woke up some nights suddenly dying of embarrassment all over again.

Barely a second went by before she remembered why she felt humiliated beyond comfort. Susie. Wine. A blunt. Drunkenly deciding to take the Floo over to her ex-boyfriend's house and running into the woman said ex-boyfriend kissed.

Yet that woman had been kind and put her to bed before she could get really sick.

Why, why oh why, did she think drinking that much would be a good idea? She knew her body! She was a lightweight on the best of days. A glass of wine was more than enough to have an effect. Why did she have the entire bottle!

Groaning, Hannah rolled out of bed. Or tried too anyways. Her legs tangled in the sheets until she upended over the edge and landed on the floor. Traitorous limbs. Oof—and bad knees.

"Why aren't you working?" she whispered to her bruised kneecaps. Had she fallen? Her position put her face to face with a bucket of her own sick. Physical evidence of her poor life choices. Kicking away the offensive linens, Hannah managed to pull herself up.

"It's okay," she assured herself, searching her person for a wand and having no luck. "Your 20s are for making bad decisions. Yeah. Let's go with that."

Pasting on a brave face, she left the room in search of Nev. She wanted two things. Apologize for her behavior and clean up the mess she made. Augusta left enough of a mess for Neville when she up and married that old coot Erasmus. Hannah was still half way convinced Auggie did it to make Neville settle down.

He couldn't afford to keep putting off finding more permanent work instead of the little side jobs he often did when he had a big home to take care of. He couldn't go traveling or seeing the world when his family home was on the line.

She might have believed differently if Augusta left the house intact. Instead, she took all the furniture and left a vacant, dusty mess with the expectation that Neville would rise to the challenge and fix up and furnish the place.

Forcing him into responsibility.

When she got the news that Neville was moving into his family home permanently, Hannah remembered thinking how grateful she felt to Augusta, for giving him a reason to stay in town. Anchoring him to not just Longbottom Keep… but also to _Hannah_.

But she should have known better. Even if her and Nev hadn't split, she wished she could go back in time and tell him not to do it. Because it trapped him here when he wasn't ready for the commitment. Hindsight sucked.

He wasn't in his room so she took the stairs all the way down and searched the kitchen. She stumbled over to the sink, grabbing a juice glass, and turning the faucet for grapefruit juice before she realized she wasn't alone.

"Oh, you're back," she said to Pansy Parkinson. Did the witch sleep here last night? Please, god, she hoped not. Her achy head immediately began spiraling, thinking of Nev and this witch getting up to all sorts of sexual shenanigans while she'd been passed out in his Gran's old bedroom next to a bucket of her own vomit.

But Nev wouldn't…. Would he? No… maybe? Did she even know him anymore?

"I'm back," she replied in a sing-song voice.

The dark haired witch stood at the gas stove, a wooden spoon in hand, a pot steaming away. Was this the morning after breakfast? Why else would she be cooking in Nev's kitchen? And why did Hannah simply adore the floral print dress she wore. Purple and yellow petals overlapping each other beautifully.

"Are those… _pansies_?"

"Are they?"

"You enjoy being ambiguous, don't you?"

"Maybe."

Pansy said it in a dry tone, but Hannah thought she saw a hint of a smile. She turned and searched the top cabinet for a Hangover Cure, finding one had been set in the very front and on the lowest shelf, in easy reach.

Neville.

For as long as she knew him, he'd always been a huge sweetheart. And that thought finally killed the hints of doubt plaguing her. Of course Hannah knew Neville… just because they were separated now didn't mean his entire personality had suddenly changed. He wouldn't parade around a new girlfriend knowing Hannah was sick and miserable only a couple floors up.

There had to be a reason why Pansy was hanging around.

Hangover Cure in hand, she downed it all in one go, a cool, soothing relief spreading through her head and stomach and achy limbs after only a moment of waiting. The sun slowly rising and peeking through the window over the sink bothered her far less. She washed it back with the fresh grapefruit juice and turned back to Neville's strange house guest.

"I wanted to say thank you, for being so kind to me last night," she offered, wondering why Pansy was even here. And… making… _Jam_?

"Of course. I've been there, to be completely honest," Pansy actually did give her a small smile this time. "Alcohol makes for bad decisions, the kind you can't take back."

That was God's honest truth, Hannah thought as she peeked into Pansy's pan. Definitely jam. Apricot and mint, by the scent of it. Neville had an apricot tree. But that didn't explain why the witch was here turning the fruit into jam. "So… exactly wh-"

"Neville is outside," Pansy explained, badly guessing at her question. "He's quite upset and last I saw he had a rather large ax."

Oh no…

"The big ax?" Hannah asked, eyes going wide. "Did it have a brown or a black handle?"

The question made Pansy turn to face her, wooden spoon dripping with liquefied fruit. "Brown I think. Why?"

"He's gone to chop down a tree," Hannah put a hand over her forehead, headache suddenly coming back. Whenever Nev got truly upset, put in a situation where he had no good options or nothing he could do about it, he would grab that big damn ax his Uncle Algie got him and go chop down a tree in a weird, masculine temper tantrum.

"Is there a flat pan or sheet I could cool this in? Then we can go find Neville and make sure he isn't over extending himself."

Uh… Blinking, Hannah bent down to the furthest cabinet and took out the brownie pan she bought for Nev ages ago. "Will this do?"

"Just so," Pansy smirked and set the pan beside the stove top. She turned off the gas eye and tilted her pot full of bubbling jam out onto the cool sheet. Then she tapped the sheet with her wand. "To keep it from sticking."

"Ahh," Hannah thought the entire thing was surreal.

 _Why_ was Pansy Parkinson making jam in her ex-boyfriend's kitchen?!

Then she stashed her wand away and wiped her hands on her dress before she made for the backdoor. "He went off this way."

Jeez, she was fast. Maybe subconsciously Pansy was trying to get away from her.

"So, erm," Hannah jogged to catch up with her and the two of them followed the small footpath that led out of Neville's immediate backyard and off into the woods that surrounded the property. "Are you and Nev like… friends now?"

Hand reaching up to pull at the high collar of her pretty dress, Pansy laughed softly. "Yes, friends," she said as if she couldn't believe it herself.

Hannah felt terribly like she missed out on a joke. It seemed to her this witch who used to tease and pick on Hannah had turned into a real odd-bird. During school Pansy made it a point to flaunt her Pureblood status to everyone who wasn't at that level, including Hannah. Perhaps she still thought herself better.

"There he is," Pansy said after they walked for another minute through the trees and small shrubs. "Oh, _sweet nectarine_."

Hannah caught sight of Neville but turned back to Pansy in shock. It almost sounded like… that accent... but surely she misheard. Shaking her head, she ignored the strange phrase from this strange witch and instead focused on Neville.

Who was indeed chopping down what looked like a dead maple tree, the branches bare of leaves and a vein of rot blackened the trunk. There must've been a patch of them, because several yards to his left was a neat pile of firewood and all around the dead maple Neville was about to lay out were three, smaller, rotted out stumps.

Sweat flattened his dark hair to his neck and soaked through his gray t-shirt, which clung to his back and shoulders in a way that made her stomach start doing flips. And he'd always looked so good in jeans. Plus he hadn't shaved in weeks it looked like. And Nev had the good fortune to be blessed with manageable facial hair. He didn't have to do anything to make it look good.

Damn he looked hot. But, Hannah reminded herself, they were _broken up_. Split. Done with. It was over. She suddenly felt drab compared to him. Why did he have to look so good while she was coming off a hangover and terrible decisions? The world was so terribly unfair.

Beside her, Pansy awkwardly pulled at her collar again. "I'll just give you two some time alone."

Her voice attracted Neville's attention but Pansy was already walking away and he found Hannah standing there instead. He set the ax carefully against the poor tree that was moments away from getting chopped down and came to stand in front of her.

"Hey Banana, I mean… Hannah…" he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and she rather wished he hadn't. He didn't need to be flashing his midsection at her.

She was in a fragile enough state as it was!

"Nev," she waved and looked away from the stomach she knew was harder than a cauldron. She could bounce a knut off those abs.

Get your life together, _Hannah Tabitha Abbott,_ she thought to herself.

"I wanted to start by saying I'm sorry about last night," she mumbled out, but once she started talking it got a bit easier to continue. "I had too much to drink and I shouldn't've Floo'd over here, that wasn't proper of me."

"Babe-" he grimaced then tried again. Would they ever get over that habit? "Hannah—you are always welcome here. Especially if you're drunk and don't know where to go. We both know you make bad decisions when you've had too much."

"Hey, I only tried to Apparate to the Bahamas the one time, thank you very much."

"And it only took three Splinches before you stopped trying, thank you very much," he teased but his smile faded away quickly. Like he too only just remembered they were broken up. Teasing wasn't appropriate anymore.

Hannah tried not to get angry again, tried not to remember he was the one that broke it off between them. Instead she nodded. "Susan says we should be friends, that's what we're meant to be…?"

"I'd like that, very very much," he said wholeheartedly.

"I'm just not ready for that yet, Nevvy," Hannah said, sniffing slightly.

And she hated the sad look on his face, but knew he understood where she was coming from. They'd been in a romantic relationship for six years, and she still wasn't sure how he could suddenly not love her. How it ended so quickly.

Well, she was going to ask him.

"Because I'm still very much in love with you, even though you seem to have woken up and decided you no longer returned that love," she sniffed even harder, trying not to cry. She dreaded the thought of actually having to talk about this just now, but an even bigger part of her needed answers.

"Aww Banana," Nev shifted uncomfortably. "I swear I don't want to hurt you, but it can't be this one sided."

"It is, though," she insisted. "The sex was good-"

"The sex was great, babe," he interrupted. "But it was never us."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was pretending to be someone else. It was pretending to be _somewhere_ else. It was... pounding out frustration. It was never you and me," he spoke softly, trying to lessen the blow. "I think you and I needed each other during the war and afterwards, neither of us could let go of that feeling."

Yep. The tears were _definitely_ coming after that bombshell. "So you just strung me along for six bloody years?"

"No, baby, no. I didn't realize what the problem was until a few weeks before we broke up. It took me that long to work up the courage to tell you. And yes, I realize what a complete coward I am for it, but I really hope one day you can forgive me."

Wiping at her face, she felt more rotten than the maple trees. Was he right? Did they cling to each other because of the war and then it… just... stuck? Maybe they were meant to be just friends.

"It might take me awhile," she said after they both took a few moments to cry.

"I completely understand," he said in a raspy voice, wiping at his red face. "But Banana, I need one thing from you. Where did you get this bracelet from?"

Neville lifted his arm and showed her the silver and gold chain she bought for him, still circled around his wrist and glinting in the sunlight. It seemed such an odd request after the conversation they just had but he also seemed just as serious.

"I bought it from Mirim, down at that consignment shop in Diagon Alley, on South St."


	24. Chapter 24

"She's disappointed in me. She lost her only son and had to raise her grandchild—who didn't turn out anything like the son she lost. But I'm not getting stuck in a career I don't want just to mend fences with her. I already went through a bloody war. Can't I do something fun for once?" - _Neville to Susan and Hannah over a bonfire and some good ale._

Neville's room was a little too clean. And yet cluttered in a very guy way. A giant bookshelf lined one wall. The bottom held all the textbooks from school and a few classics. The rest held pictures, knick-knacks, a rock collection, and a very eccentric line of green, blue, and purple succulents.

Pansy waited a whole hour for Hannah or Neville to return, but it seemed their conversation was long overdue. So she jarred her jam, which had cooled to perfect consistency, and decided to move her things from Neville's room up to the guest room. She decided to give it one more night at Longbottom Keep, but if she had another dream like the one they had last night, she was moving to Canada.

But once she saw his bedroom in the light of day, she couldn't help but snoop a little bit. She enjoyed the pictures the most. It seemed everywhere she looked was a smiling face on a different friend or family member or Neville in some distant land.

Some she recognized like the Notre Dame or the Charles Bridge. But others she didn't. He'd been to Pacific beaches and golden deserts. There was one of him decked out in climbing gear, standing in front of a sign that said Denali. Clearly he stood on the edge of a cliff and behind him spread out as far as the horizon went was pure white snow.

Except as she leaned in closer Pansy realized it wasn't snow at all, but smooth, unbroken clouds. How high must he have climbed to see such a sight?

Fascinating. She'd never been anywhere but to school. Her eyes, unable to stop wandering, found a picture of a couple in Aurors robes in a very worn, wooden frame just beyond the cloudy photo.

She picked it up to examine the couple a little closer. They waved up at her, smiling warmly and it didn't take a genius to put it together. Neville was a dead ringer for his mother. Bright golden brown eyes and a wide set mouth. Though she could see traces of him in his dad too, the jaw and the nose were a match. But this was a young couple, the picture clearly a few decades old.

She went to put the picture back but saw, half hidden, an Order of Merlin, First class.

Her mouth dropped open. She extracted the stone plaque from behind a wooden box, dusting it off to get a better look. _Neville Ellery Longbottom_ , for services provided during the Great War and the Battle of Hogwarts.

If this was hers, she would hang it up for the world to see. Why had he shoved it to a forgotten corner to gather dust?

_Modest man, our guy._

"This is the highest honor our kind can receive, why did he hide it?" she asked, certainly confused.

_Well, now, we both witnessed how stubborn he can be last night. You should ask him about it._

Running her fingers over the expertly carved plaque, Pansy really wondered why he allowed it to collect dust when there was a house full of empty wall space. He could hang this anywhere and he chose an out of the way, dark corner. There had to be a big reason. Someone didn't just win an Order of Merlin, _First Class_ and then forget about it.

No matter her personal experience, crazy cult and Spitting-Fire Beetles and all, there was no doubt in her mind that Neville deserved the award. A compulsion kept her staring down at the stone in her hand, finger tracing over the words as she did. Distracting her enough she didn't notice the very man had returned.

"Like that?" he asked, leaning against the door frame casually, his shirt completely sweated through.

It hadn't been loud at all, but she jumped nearly out of her skin and dropped the plaque for her troubles.

It flopped straight down on the worn hardwood floor and didn't bounce at all, just landed with a deafening slam of stone on wood before it tilted over on it's back. In a panic she knelt down and grabbed it, already spotting the small crack on the corner.

Mortified, she looked up at Neville and wished for instantaneous death. It didn't help the man had obviously been crying. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "S'fine."

"I could fix it," she offered, coming up to stand and holding the plaque much more carefully than before. Maybe she could wedge a piece of lead or wood between the crack and fill it with putty. She had the materials at her home. Stained glass and putty went hand in hand and she could cut lead in her sleep. "You'd think they would be more sturdy than this…"

But Neville only shrugged again. "Really, I don't care."

_Perfect time to ask your question, sweetheart._

"But… why-"

"So," he interrupted and walked by her, deeper into his bedroom. "Harry is interrogating your intruder today and I know where Hannah got the bracelet finally, we can go ask around. I just need a shower first."

Blinking, Pansy realized he was asking her to leave the house again. She'd rather not. Most definitely not. The look on her face must have clued him in. He said, "I know you're supposed to be laying low, I didn't forget. But we can disguise you. It's just a short trip to Diagon Alley. I promise there's no bad guys waiting around every corner for you."

No, they just sneak into her home and leave a box full of bloody animal parts to terrorize her.

"I'd rather stay and talk about-" she held up the plaque. " _Why_ you let the greatest honor wizard kind can be bestowed upon get _dusty_."

"And I'd rather take a shower and then go figure out where these damn bracelets came from, and guess what, Pancakes? You're coming with me."

The sheer audacity. What did he just refer to her as? Breakfast food? "I am not going _anywhere_ without a bodyguard and don't ever call me that again."

Pansy determined to remain still and show him she meant business, even if she was being nosy about it. She raised the plaque up and wiggled it back and forth. She wasn't leaving.

Neville's eyes narrowed at her and Stella's voice filled her mind. _Oola-la, honey, you're about to see a man determined to get what he wants._

"Why oola-la?" she wondered out loud.

_Frustration is sexy. Watch._

Neville's gaze narrowed further as she conversed with Stella. "Do you get off on being stubborn?"

"Me or…?" Pansy pointed at her head.

"Oh, I'm definitely talking about you. I already know Gus and Stella are more stubborn than a mandrake that wants their binky."

"It's an Order of Merlin," she couldn't believe she had to remind him of that. _"With your name on it!"_

"Yeah and they gave out like 50 others at the same time I got that piece of junk. Big whoop."

"Aren't you angry that I broke something of yours?"

"No, actually, now you've given me a proper reason to toss the thing. So thanks! Now shoo. I need to shower."

 _Did he just_ shoo _us?_ And she wasn't sure if it was her or Stella that thought it.

Pansy stood her ground, somehow, feeling upset on his behalf and far too curious to be afraid. They had an intense stare down for exactly one minute before he demonstrated he was the brave one. His hands came to the bottom of his shirt and his eyes said _try me._

Oh _no..._

 _Oh_ , yes!

"Uh… uh…"

Pansy took a step back and realized, quite suddenly, that Neville's activities out in the woods had caused him to sweat through his shirt, which caused said shirt to mold to his torso. Which once properly registered by her brain caused a flare of heat to spread through her entire body and she wasn't sure if it was her feeling attracted or if it was Stella messing with her.

 _Nope, not me darlin'. I_ told _you frustration is sex-ay._

Pansy squeaked when Neville proved he wasn't bluffing by pulling his wet shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor without breaking eye contact, the squeak immediately followed by her turning on her toe and rushing from the room as quickly as possible.

Pansy was halfway to the kitchen, plaque still clutched in her arms when she realized she hadn't grabbed any of her things.


	25. Chapter 25

"I have a love-hate relationship with my glass—because I love making it, but I also feel like I could be doing so much more with it. The curse of the artist..." - _Pansy to Gerry, standing in her garden, picking lemons and feeling like a huge failure._

The next day Pansy fiddled with Neville's unwanted award as she sat at the kitchen table, attempting to repair the damage she did. Her new friend had taken off early that morning, without so much as a goodbye and Pansy wondered if the cold shoulder was due to her behavior… or because of whatever happened between him and Hannah.

She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, too afraid to close her eyes and of what she might see in her dreams.

Wayne brought over some supplies for her, including a big jar of putty, which she used to fill in the crack on the plaque. Working with her hands got her feeling a lot better but still… she wondered…

Right before lunch time the Floo came to life, and she waited at the table for Neville to pop his head around the door. But it wasn't him at all that appeared in the giant doorway.

It was Hermione Granger.

"Oh, hello. Neville isn't here."

The witch smiled pleasantly. "No? I told him I was stopping by today, oh well. You can fill him in later?"

She wanted to stay? Uh oh. "Fill him in on what exactly?" Pansy asked, trying to sound cordial. But the sight of her childhood counterpart made Pansy completely uncomfortable. It wasn't anything Hermione did.

Oh no.

Pansy had been the problem. The bully. The mean girl. And Hermione had been her prime target. She didn't see how the two of them could ever be friendly. Especially now. Hermione had flourished after school, becoming a successful Ministry worker and advocate for Creature Rights.

And Pansy sat with her hands caked in putty, sweat on her forehead, hiding out from a cult trying to kill her.

Super.

But the witch continued to smile as she sat down at the table, removing her jacket and setting down a rose colored briefcase. She went off much the same way she used to in school.

"I found several fascinating texts on possession, and I read them all last night. As I'm sure you're aware, a witch or wizard has the ability to leave an imprint of their soul behind when they die, what we call ghosts. Another name for them is phantom or spectre. They stay behind for any number of reasons. Fear of death, fear of the beyond, unfinished business, a strong connection to a special person or place. Such as Hogwarts for example."

As she spoke, Hermione pulled out several textbooks. "Some people incorrectly refer to them as spirits. Spirits are different from phantoms. Spirits are the soul of the person who passed. Not an imprint, as such, they cannot haunt the physical world like ghosts do. They have to have a living, breathing, body to attach to."

"So how do we get them _out_ of our bodies?" Pansy interrupted. That was the main goal after all. She didn't care what the difference between ghost and spirit and whatever else. She just wanted her life back.

"Well that's the thing," Hermione bit on her lip nervously. "You have to ask yourself how did they attach in the first place? Through the bracelets, am I correct?"

She reached out and lifted Pansy's wrist up, avoiding wet putty as she did. "A soul won't _stay_ behind. Dark magic is the only way to keep the actual soul from moving on."

"Dark magic," Pansy nodded as if she knew it all along. She looked away from Hermione before she started yelling. "I knew it, Stella. You cursed these bracelets! You cursed me!"

_Stop yellin', hon. I'm in your head, I can hear you just fine._

Shouting out in frustration, Pansy stood up and started pacing. "What do you want? What do you want, Stella!"

_My husband. I want to be with my husband, nothing less, nothing more. Wouldn't you want the same? If you were separated from your true love?_

"True love? What kind of soap opera-romance drama have I fallen into? Why me?" Pansy sank into her previous chair, hands covered in rapidly drying putty, and barely resisted the urge to cry.

One, it would be beyond embarrassing to cry in front of Hermione Granger of all people. But two, it wouldn't do her any good. It wouldn't solve any of her current problems.

"So," Pansy steeled herself for bad news. "The only way for Neville and I to get rid of the spirits is to get the bracelets off?"

"That's my thinking as well," Hermione nodded, looking baffled by Pansy's seemingly one-sided conversation. "We need to find out the exact curse used to bind the spirits to the bracelets. Breaking that curse will break the bracelets and free you from possession."

"Want to come clean, Stella?" Pansy asked, eyes rolling heaven forward. "Save me a lot of trouble? No? Didn't think so."

Hermione reached out, hesitated, then silently patted her hand in a gesture of comfort. Awkwardly. "I have more research to do. The answer is out there. We just have to find it. But I should tell you, I did find one way to break the curse..."

"I'm all ears," Pansy felt hope for the first time.

"Well, this should really be a last resort option," Hermione continued slowly. "Everything I read did say the souls would move on if yours moves on as well. Since they are bound together."

"Move on… you mean, die?"

"That's correct," Hermione winced. "I'm not advocating for this option, Neville is a very good friend of mine and I can already tell he cares a great deal for you."

Pansy laughed. It sounded as hopeless as she felt.

"I know you're only doing this to help Neville, but thank you," Pansy pulled her hand away, wishing she could _strangle_ the voice in her head. She felt crazier than ever, trapped in this house without her guards, without her glass, and around people she never thought she would spend any time with ever again.

More, this foreboding sense of claustrophobia had slowly crept up on her until she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Two voices in one head. Two souls in one body. The insanity of it made her shake. She never wanted to be alone so badly.

To distract herself, she hopped up and opened the cabinet, grabbing one of several jars of the apricot jam she made. "Here," she offered to Hermione. "I hope you like it. It's homemade."

"Thank you. The famous jam, I can't wait to try it," Hermione said softly, placing the sealed jar in her briefcase. She sounded genuine at least. "And watch out for Susie, she'll be over soon too. She's an apprentice curse breaker and… she and Neville are best friends."

Great. Another friend. Another _girl_. Pansy resisted the urge to ask what would happen if she died. Would it set Neville free? Everyone might be better off if she went and Apparated off a bridge or something.

But she didn't think Hermione would appreciate her joke.

After she left, Pansy forced down a glass of water and went back to her putty. It was drying much darker than the stone of the plaque and stood out like a sore thumb. Of course, did it even matter if Neville didn't want the damn thing?

With a sigh, she cleaned up her mess and took the broken stone up to her room before flopping down on the bed. "Tell me about Gus."

She waited for a response but there was nothing in her head besides her own thoughts. "Come on, Stella. You love talking about that husband of yours. Usually I can't get you to shut up about him."

… Total silence.

"I guess you've grown sick of him," Pansy shrugged, switching tactics. "I hear that about some married couples. The love just tappers out. What can you do?"

_Oh, shut that mouth of yours, hon. The love between Gus and I would never tapper out as you've so callously suggested. What we have is forever._

"Even after death?" Pansy felt the temperature drop, causing her to shiver violently.

 _Forever_ , Stella repeated. Then went quiet again. Damn ghosts. Spirits. Whatever they were! Pansy was plum tired of them. Tired of The Brotherhood. Just tired. She needed uninterrupted, uneventful sleep for at least 7-8 hours and she was guessing Neville did too. Coming to stay at Longbottom Keep might've been the worst idea ever.

The bracelet around her wrist seemed to tighten, that sense of claustrophobia returning. She was good for exactly two things. Making jam and making stained glass.

Neither of those things would help her now.

 _But you aren't alone_ , Stella whispered quietly across her mind. _I'm here, and like it or not, that stud would step in for you any-time, hon. He's a bona-fide gentleman, I can promise you that._

"Bonafide gentleman..." Pansy repeated, eyes tired and staring up at the ceiling. She recalled the way his shirt had stuck against his upper body the day before. Seeing a torso sweated from physical work as he pulled his shirt off, brave enough not to care that she saw him naked from the waist up. Daring her to stick around and keep arguing with him.

Oh damn. Maybe she should have. Hannah probably would have stood her ground, would have proven she could handle it.

Pansy bit down on her lip, imagining she was worth a damn and could handle being around a man in that kind of heated situation. Imagining about his smile to go along with a sexy jaw line ... "STOP IT STELLA!"

_What? I haven't done a thing!_

_"You're driving me crazy!"_

__You mean that st-ud is drivin' you crrrraaazzyyyyy. You can't stop thinkin' about him. Mmm-mmmm! I love it! I'll have you two together in no time._ _


	26. Chapter 26

"I broke up with Hannah. No, we're not getting married. No... I haven't found a job yet. And yes there is another woman living in the house with me—no we're not getting married either." - _Neville to his Gran and Erasmus over a badly burnt bit of toast and bacon._

After a night of tossing and turning and getting zero sleep, Neville escorted a trembling Pansy to the Auror Department to meet Harry. And the intruder. Despite the warm weather, she wore her winter cloak. A fine white and cream color, the hood pulled up to hide her face.

The gold brooch at her neck was a wreath of flowers. He recognized hibiscus, jasmine, and clivia. A sign of Antheia. The Goddess of flowers and flowery Wreaths.

There weren't many left who worshiped the Goddesses, but he had no problem imagining Pansy at an altar, perhaps surrounded by stained glass and cascading flowers. Maybe he should turn one of the empty rooms into an altar room. That would make his Gran happy at least.

And maybe Pansy too.

Weirdly, he'd prefer to do it for his new house guest over his Gran, who he fought with like cats and dogs the last time they saw each other. Neville thought growing up would make things easier between him and his Gran. Maybe after everything he went through during the war would make her see him in a better light.

But so far, things only seemed to get more difficult. Especially when Erasmus entered the picture.

Harry met them the moment they stepped through the Floo and led them down a busy hall. Pansy went mostly ignored, everyone assuming they were welcome and safe because they walked with Harry.

But her trembles didn't go away and Neville hated seeing it. Why the hell was she so afraid all the time? They were in the Ministry of Magic for crying out loud, there weren't any cultists waiting to ambush her. He reached out without further thought and took her hand, pulling her arm into the nook made by his elbow.

She startled for a moment, but he caught the briefest glance of her eyes beneath her hood before she clutched on like her life depended on him. Maybe she wasn't ready to come out into public. Now that he thought about it, he definitely assumed she would just… want to come.

But he seriously underestimated her agoraphobia.

Harry took them to a small office that had his name on the door. "I can't believe how little info there is on these guys," he said, shutting the door behind them once they were all inside. "I mean, barely anything at all on the records."

His friend pushed a file at Neville. "I have a friend putting together all the evidence Pansy and her guard submitted but other than that, this is what I have."

After settling Pansy into a chair, she reached up and pushed back her hood.

"There she is," Harry smiled shyly at her.

Neville resisted the urge to laugh when he saw Pansy's face. Total surprise at Harry's warmth.

"My apologies," Pansy said in a forced voice, fingers still shaking. "I… I have a hard time being at the Ministry."

It sounded as if there was a story there, something more than her usual fear of the public. Harry only smiled but Neville wondered if they should be indulging her behavior. Fear should be conquered, not adjusted for.

He picked up the thin file Harry had on the Brotherhood of the Chosen and opened it. Then shook his head. "Wait, is this it? Just this… one piece of… paper?"

He held up the yellowed parchment, where less than half a page was filled in with black ink. It read: The Brotherhood of the Chosen is a club created by Arkin Josephson-Bridger, a wizard from Lancaster. They meet on the first of every month to discuss current affairs, contemporary issues, and politics.

 _"Club?_ " Neville blinked rapidly. Both he and Gus seemed to say it at the same time. He had to wrangle control back for a moment, Gus seemed so pissed off. A surge of protection towards Pansy and Stella, and Neville knew it was for both women. Not just his wife.

_The Ministry was useless back in my time too, chump. We can't count on them to protect our girl._

Our girl. Hmmm.

He wanted to agree. Recent wars aside, he grew up listening to both his Gran and his Uncle Algie, two people who never agreed on a single thing in their lives, speaking about what a terrible job the government does.

But, he trusted Harry. "Is this it?"

_If they hurt Pansy, if they hurt my wife..._

"I know," Neville said forcefully, making both Harry and Pansy look at him in question.

Thankfully Pansy seemed to understand he was speaking to Gus and only reached out to pluck the parchment from his hands, reading the words quickly. Her face seemed to sink, skin growing even paler. "I see…"

"Harry," Neville couldn't help his voice from rising. "Is this it? Really?"

"I don't know what to say. Most people here haven't heard of The Brotherhood, let alone know anything about them. You didn't know about them before this. I can't find any other incidents where they're involved or even mentioned."

He turned to Pansy, seeming apologetic. "It might as well be a We Hate Pansy club for all I can find about them."

Her eyebrow went up. "You going to join? You could get a nice badge, I bet."

"No," Harry didn't miss a beat. "Maybe if there's a hat. I like a good hat."

"What about the guy who broke her wards?" Neville demanded, slamming the paper down. Holy Hufflepuff, he was pissed.

"You want to see him? Only see. No talking," Harry held up his hands in surrender.

He turned to Pansy, who turned to him. "You want to?"

Her fingers might have trembled with her fear, but she nodded without hesitation, standing and pulling up her hood. She reached out and grabbed onto his arm. "Yes."

Harry took them down another hall, past two giant windows that looked into the center of the floor. He caught sight of several cubicle desks and flying memos, people rushing around and a single, overused self-filing filing cabinet. But they didn't enter that room, instead heading all the way to the corner and into a much smaller room.

"In here," Harry held the door open for them.

_You like her on your arm, Gus whispered in his mind._

"Shut up," he replied in a mumble.

_She looks good there, you should be seducing her so she remains there. It's where she belongs._

"Shut it, Gus," he said a little louder. He was far too tired to deal with the ghost in his head and he had to concentrate so he didn't lose control. He didn't want Gus taking over and doing anything to Pansy.

"What's that?" Pansy asked, pulling his attention down to her.

"Nothing," he shook his head, not wanting to talk about the voice in his head in front of Harry.

Giving him a small look, her eyes widened when she realized what he wanted. She tugged on his arm in a sign that she understood and looked around. Then jumped into him with a shout.

"Hey! Whoa," he wrapped his arms around her as they spun around, her hooded head buried in his chest. He realized why. On the other side of a clear glass window sat the man who invaded her home.

"It's okay!" Harry shouted. "It's a one way mirror! We can see him, he can't see us."

Neville turned around, putting himself between Pansy and the window. She leaned back to look up at him and he pushed the hood down to reveal her face. His hands came up to her face, thumbs brushing against her cheek. "You think that puny knob in there can get through me?"

Silver eyes blinked in terror. "If he could do that to a cat, what do you think he'll do to me?"

"Nothing," he told her firmly. He had to make sure she listened to his words. "He can't do anything to you. He can't even see you."

"Right," she placed a hand over her heart, taking deep breaths.

Though she calmed down, he found it difficult to release his hold on her face. _Lean in,_ Gus whispered. _Kiss her._

The temptation to do just that scared him enough that he backed off. "Not-happening," he mumbled through clenched teeth, turning to look through the mirror instead.

That puny knob he spoke of sat in a chair, hands bound in front of him, looking bored. He seemed totally normal. Average brown hair tucked behind his ears, plain brown eyes, a wide set nose. A young man not more than a year or two out of school. He could be any other guy.

"Look, my boss kind of hates me," Harry told them. "He's made up his mind that I'm only here because of my name and not because I deserve to be here. So when I say you need to stay in this room no matter what, stay in this room. I'll go talk to him, you can watch, then you both go home. Heard? Heard."

Harry left without another word and reappeared in the second room a few seconds later with a file.

The Knob's face lit up like a bonfire. "Oh my Lord! You're Harry Potter! Harry Potter!"

"Have a seat," Harry said firmly.

"Oh yes, sir," the man quickly sat back in his seat, but his smile never left. "I have always wanted to meet you!"

Harry sat opposite him. "Well, frankly, I think you picked a really awful way of doing so."

"Oh," the man sat back fully and turned a little timid. "Just so you know, I didn't do that to the animal. I would never do that."

"What's your name?" Harry asked.

"Ted Heathers," he said, lifting his bound hands. "I would love to shake hands with you!"

"Ted," Harry continued. "You would never do that to a helpless kitten?"

"Definitely not!"

"No?" Harry opened his file and laid out what seemed to be a photograph. Neville spotted the bloody remains of the cat and so did Pansy. "You didn't do this?"

"No! I swear!"

"You just left it in Pansy Parkinson's house?"

"I uh," Ted lifted up a finger as if to say 'hold on'. "Well, I'm supposed to deny all involvement."

"Ted, we literally caught you at her house."

"Technically…" Ted shrugged.

"No, _literally."_

"Well, she's a bad guy right?" Ted nodded yes to his own question. "We're going to get rid of her for you, we know that you don't like her."

They really were a cult, Neville thought. This guy sounded so brainwashed, he couldn't wrap his head around it. Didn't he have a brain? Couldn't he think for himself?

He looked down at Pansy. It seemed like ever since she came into his life, he was constantly getting angry on her behalf. Mad at her situation, mad at the ghost trying to get her, mad at the cult trying to hurt her. Mad mad mad.

She bit into her lip, leaning forward as they watched Harry and Ted speak.

"No," Harry continued. "Pansy is a friend of mine and I don't want anyone getting rid of her."

"Wait," Ted shook his head, face falling. His voice lost all his wonder. "I don't know anything about her really… I just did as I was told. I thought she was a Death Eater's daughter?"

"What do they know about my father?" Pansy placed a hand against the window. "I don't even know…"

"Hey," Neville pulled her towards the opposite end of the room and away from the window. "These guys are obviously delusional."

Shaking her head, Pansy patted his chest in a sad manner, her eyes downcast. "Delusions can be harmful, Neville. That guy's a pawn, he doesn't even realize what he did. Or why he did it. He just followed orders. And the Ministry doesn't even see these guys as a threat. They can't help me."

 _She's right,_ Gus told him. _You should take her away from this place. Keeping her safe is our top priority._

Finally, something he and Gus agreed with.

"Let's finish watching this interrogation, then we'll leave, alright? We can figure it out another way, Pancake."

He would do whatever it took to take down this ridiculous cult and make sure they could never harm Pansy again.

Nodding, she walked back to the window and Neville watched her, realizing this wasn't something he'd do for Hannah if she were the one in Pansy's shoes. And it shamed him to know that, to know he would probably schedule a trip out of country and trust that Harry or the Ministry or anyone else would take care of the problem.

_You wouldn't do it for that sweetheart because she isn't your wife._

"And Pansy isn't either," he whispered quietly, reminding Gus of that fact. He wasn't married to anyone! Hello!

_Maybe not yet._

"Gus," Pansy said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "Stella says you need to leave that poor boy alone."

Slow laughter filled his head, and so did a whole lot of desire.

"Don't indulge them," he told her, heat pooling in his belly. "In case you haven't noticed, you get along far better with your ghost than I do with mine."

"I noticed. Don't worry."

In the second room, Harry was now standing, the door open. He held his wand out, and seemed to be shouting—though they couldn't hear what he said.

"What's happening?"

"Oh fuck," Neville pointed to Ted.

The man was convulsing, head bouncing off the table, foam coming out of his mouth.


	27. Chapter 27

"No, Hannah's great. We eat and we have sex. How much more perfect could she be?" - _Neville, age 20, to Ron and Harry at the wedding of George and Angelina._

Neville found out that Harry hadn't been able to interrogate Pansy's intruder further because he'd slipped into a coma sometime after being admitted to St. Mungo's hospital. Despite the Healer's best efforts, they couldn't figure out why. After his own recent trip to the magical hospital he wasn't surprised in the least.

That Healer had been downright nutty.

But he couldn't lie about being disappointed. He wanted to get to the bottom of this Brotherhood situation so Pansy could feel safe in her own home but somehow neither him nor Harry could find _any_ information about the cult besides the measly case file the Ministry had on Pansy. It was if not worse, just as bad as the file Harry had of The Brotherhood.

Whoever had been in charge of keeping the evidence together hadn't bothered in the least. There was exactly one photograph of the dead Spitting Fire Beetle that marred Pansy, and the record that proved she went to St. Mungo's to treat the wound.

There was a complaint filed by Gerry Kessler after the feather incident, but no record whatsoever of what happened to the feather or what, if any, follow up had been.

Ted had been their only lead and Harry was _furious_. So was Neville, to be honest.

He chewed on that while Susan fiddled with his bracelet, casting spell after spell, trying to tease apart whatever magic the curse was made of.

"Sweet Neville, cursed in the prime of his life," Susie muttered as she worked, always smiling.

"I could just die—Hermione said that would get the damn ghost to move on."

"Spirit."

"I don't care," he snapped.

"Oh, so grouchy."

"I haven't been sleeping well," he told her, realizing she was right. But everyone already knew he hadn't been sleeping. He was beyond grouchy and definitely sick of seeing Pansy terrified _all the time_. He thought that after the war, things would get better for their community. Yet Pansy had been stalked and harassed and no one at the Ministry seemed to care at all.

What the hell is that? He thought of Pansy, standing at the stove, making yet another batch of jam in her pretty dresses and rare smile. He was going to have to try it soon. It had to be good. Everyone seemed in love with it. Even Hermione…

"I'm sorry to hear that, Nevvy," she told him, wand up, waving back and forth as she ran some test or another.

"I'm… I'm just angry all the time," he admitted, wondering if venting was the right thing to do. Susan wouldn't mind, but he wasn't in the mood for advice. He wanted to pound out his frustrations...

"At Hannah?"

"Maybe," he sighed, thinking that if they hadn't broken up, Hannah is exactly who he'd been pounding out those frustrations with. "No, not at Hannah. I'm the one that fucked up there. I let things go on for way too long. I'm mad because…"

Oh. Was it time to come clean? Who better than his best friend? Except his best friend was also Hannah's best friend, and he didn't want to hurt Hannah. He was tired of hurting her.

"Never mind..." he groaned, miserable.

She continued to work for a bit, muttering spells under her breath and making faces when they didn't give the result she wanted. Then she said, "If you want to tell me something in confidence, you can."

"I can't," he disagreed. "You were Hannah's friend first, and I don't want to mess that up."

"You're so sweet, you know that, Nev? But I told you once before. I choose to be a friend to you _and_ Banana, because I love you both. Tell me what's on your mind."

"Okay..." he exhaled hard. "I feel things for Pansy... things I never once felt for Hannah."

Susan paused, looking up in surprise.

"And I can't tell if it's me or if it's just Gus loving his wife, but then, I'm pissed because Pansy is in real danger and no one seems to care. No one. I just wonder what the hell did we fight for if this is how people are going to treat her?"

"Wow, I've never seen you so passionate about something before, not since the war anyways…" Susie went back to her spellwork. "Hannah's okay, by the way. I made her the biggest pan of double fudge brownies last night."

"They're all gone by now," he smiled. "She loves chocolate."

"What about Pansy? Shall I make her some? Maybe she needs a bit of comfort food."

"I'll find out," he said, thinking he would love to find out her favorite treats.

"Good, and I'm going to get with Hermione because so far, I've been useless here. I have no idea how to break this curse. It's _strong_ , because of its age. I would say 50 years or so old." Susan held the bracelet and set her wand down, still examining the gold and silver links. "What a heaping pile of trouble you've managed to land in."

"Tell me about it. Thanks for coming by, Susie."

They hugged afterwards.

"Sad I couldn't meet up with _your_ Pansy this time, can't wait to try the famous jam," Susie laughed, pausing by the door. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone your secret."

His secret. His confusion. Those dreams alone would be enough to knock anyone for a loop. But it did clear one thing up. Neville knew exactly how Gus felt for Stella because he could quite literally feel it. Which meant he knew for certain what he felt for Hannah all these years was not truly love.

He went up to his room and laid down, though he did not sleep.

There hadn't been any dreams for a few nights because Ginny dropped off a double batch of Dreamless Sleep Potions for both him and Pansy. The latter had been taking a nap when Ginny came by, so they didn't have to deal with each other face to face and Neville thought that might have been for the best.

Ginny was still feeling sour about the whole fight with Mattie, Pansy's friend and bodyguard.

Though to be sure there would be no dreams, Pansy suggested they sleep at different times, which he agreed to for the time being, not coming clean that he just hadn't slept more than an hour or so at a time. It seemed to be working, as Pansy had been asleep during Susan's visit. It gave him an excuse to watch over her door as she slept and he knew the powerful compulsion to protect Pansy was being heavily influenced by Gus and his unyielding love for Stella.

He tried to separate the feelings currently coursing through his brain like a full on Christmas Parade. But he felt like he shot-gunned eight espressos while simultaneously chewing up chocolate covered coffee beans and doing nonstop jumping jacks.

AKA, he had no idea what was happening because it felt like his brain was on _fire_.

There was a load of guilt about Hannah(all his), and it hummed in the background while this storm of love for Stella(not his) fought violently with this need to protect Pansy(maybe his) and Stella(definitely not his) which clashed with a whole lot of confusion.

Which was definitely his.

He thought...

 _You need to seduce her_ , Gus said in that uppity, condescending tone of his. Again. For the millionth time.

"Not happening." Neville's feet bounced anxiously. "I'm not sleeping with her. Her first time will not be some backwards foursome, not after everything she's been through."

_You'd rather be with someone like her than that sweetheart blonde, and that's tough for me to say. I love blondes._

"Not. Happening. Wait, is-was-Stella blonde?"

_She might be a scared kitten, your girl, but that kitten has claws._

"Okay," Neville felt his frustration mounting. "What's with the cat metaphors?"

_The right man knows how to make his woman purr, chump._

"Purr?"

_Make her yours, kick out those guards, and then you don't need an excuse to watch her door at night._

"Hey," Pansy seemed to appear at his doorway in the blink of an eye, filling up the space with her aura of strangeness. Maybe people would think she was a sweetheart, what with her jam making and pretty floral dresses. But her demeanor often came off as aloof and rude, until they got to know her. Then they realized she was just odd, and her humor so subtle it was easy to miss.

And her habit of suddenly appearing. She made zero noise when she walked. It startled him right out of his skin.

 _Like a kitty cat,_ Gus said. And Neville had the feeling the ghost was grinning.

"Ooohh, sorry," she gave him a piercing look. "What are you doing up here?"

"Umm…" he played it cool, stretching out his legs over the bed. "Chillin' out. Whatever."

"'Chillin''?" she raised an eyebrow, silver eyes dancing with humor.

"Yeah," he shrugged, realizing he was acting like an idiot teenager caught with a sock in his hand. "You need me for something, Pancake?"

"What I need is for you to stop calling me that. And I'm bored. I usually work in the mornings and all my equipment and supplies are at home. And… well since we're learning so much about each other already why not be honest? When I get bored I want to eat. Eat… everything."

Laughing, Neville nodded though he didn't mind that she was such a wonderful chef. They hadn't eaten take-away since the first night of her stay at Longbottom Keep, something he was more than okay with. "Me too. We could go to Diagon Alley and check out that consignment shop Banana told me about, the one she found this damn horrible bracelet at."

"Diagon Alley?" she mumbled, eyes widening in fear. Her entire demeanor changed and Neville instantly recognized that posture from their school days. Slightly hunched over, trying not to attract attention. Her fingers came up to brush through her hair nervously. "Maybe I'll just make cookies."

"Or…" he hopped up, that unstoppable confusion driving him to comfort and put her at ease. "I don't know, we could stay here."

"You could tell me what's up with the Mallards."

Laughing heartily, they walked downstairs and into the formal living room. Also known as Duck Hell. "My Gran. I don't know. She loves them."

"So why are they in _your_ house then?"

"Because Longbottom Keep used to be my Gran's home until she remarried and moved out," he informed her, opening the dusty plaid curtains.

Pansy shied away from the sunlight that streamed through the window like a vampire, curiously eyeing up the nearest row of mallards. "If she moved out then why didn't she take her stuff?"

"She took everything else." Did he sound bitter? Oops.

"Ohhh," Pansy nodded, following him slowly around the room and subtlety not so subtlety closing the curtains he previously opened. "That explains all the empty rooms."

"Your Gran-"

"Augusta," he told her.

Pansy smiled slyly. "Augusta...?"

"Myerscough," he completed for her. Not a Longbottom any longer.

"And your parents?" she pretended to dust a curtain before shutting it, shooting him a side glance over her shoulder.

_Those eyes are something special, chump._

Yeah, she was special. Too bad she was scared out of her boots 24/7.

"Frank and Alice," he said, ignoring Gus and looking away from Pansy's gorgeous silver eyes. Did they have to twinkle like that all the time? He cleared his throat, uncomfortable at the mention of the parents he never knew. "They live at St. Mungo's."

Her faux dusting paused. "That's… an interesting place to live. You'll have to tell me about that sometime."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah. Some time."

"So, Granny liked the Mallards?"

"Yep."

"And… You don't like the Mallards?"

"Yep."

"But Granny moved out, right?"

"Right."

"So… what's stopping us from tossing all one thousand of these suckers into the trash can?" If she had a slight American Southern accent, he chose to ignore it.

"Uhm… well… nothing," he turned to look at her and found she'd stepped towards him, that sly smile back on her face and all the fear gone. From an invisible pocket in her dress she pulled out her wand, a long, curved Willow wand that fit nicely in her left hand.

Grinning, he pulled his own Cherry Wand out. "Why throw them away? Why not Reductor Curse or-"

"Burn them?" They said together. Then smiled.

"I'm going to channel my best Dean Thomas and go start a fire out back," he said, suddenly super excited. Burn the ducks! Why didn't _he_ think of that?!

While he rushed out the back door to gather wood, Pansy began levitating a line of the god-awful Mallards. They danced in an embarrassingly long line out of the formal living room, down the hall, taking a right, past the kitchen, and out through the back door. Bobbing in a floating phalanx while Neville threw wood into a fire pit.

"Why are there so many?!" she laughed as more and more collected. Then she got scared. Yikes. "Uh… why are there so many?"

Pansy took a few steps back. The Mallards seemed downright menacing in a giant, floating group than lined up on a dusty shelf.

"Never fear," Neville tossed more wood into the fire, which crackled happily with it's new food. "I will protect you!"

Laughing at his attempt to sound like a Medieval Knight, he waved his wand at the nearest Mallards with a sweeping motion. "By Royal Order of me, Neville Ellery Longbottom the First, I hereby decree that Longbottom Keep is now, and forever more, a Mallard-Free kingdom and any wooden Mallard found on the grounds will be immediately executed for… looking _ugly_."

Pansy bent over, unable to stop laughing. It was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever witnessed before and it only got better once Neville began sentencing the Mallards to a fiery death. He shot them soaring through the air and right into the fire that climbed higher and higher as each duck fueled the inferno.

"You wanna get in on this, Pancakes?" he bounced over to her, wand behind his back as he aimed another Mallard right at the fire.

"Sir Longbottom, you have some moves, don't you?" she bit down on her lip. Weird as it might be, but she wanted to burn those Mallards too just for the reason they seemed to upset Neville.

Wand coming up, she targeted the nearest duck and levitated it into a spiral, straight up into the air directly above the fire and then…

Released it to free fall right into its fiery death. It landed with a loud thump of wood on burning wood, sending ash and smoke into the air.

"Wooo! Nice move!" Neville reached out for a high five, which she returned with sass. Then he sent the next duck even higher, trying to best her. He taunted, "Beat that."

_Hon, that man is in love with you._

With an eye roll, Pansy ignored Stella's voice in her head and twirled her wand through the air, sending two Mallards spiraling through the air. They knocked heads before crashing into the fire.

Feeling smug, she glanced at Neville and smirked. "Too easy."

"Oh, it's on, Pancakes."

Together they took turns sending duck after duck at the fire pit in increasingly interesting ways, trying to best each other and having far too much fun while doing it. The Mallards waltzed and ritzed through the air. Doing somersaults and back flips with all the grace of a chunk of polished wood.

Neville shouted in victory for her each time she made a spectacular move so she returned the favor, the feeling contagious. "Nice one!" and "Watch this!" Until they both stood on the nearest bench, dancing, wands out, shooting off spells and sending the Mallards to their final resting place.

Laughing like two kids playing in the sun.

She sent two Mallards in a wide arc around Neville's back yard, pulling them in so they spiraled steadily closer—" _Protego!"_

Neville shouted the spell before she even realized she was about to send two giant chunks of wood right into the back of her own bodyguard's head.

"Gerry!" she shouted, jumping down from the bench and rushing over to him as the Mallards rolled harmlessly across the grass, successfully bouncing off the shield Neville summoned.

Her longtime guard almost got bashed in the skull. She felt horrible. "Are you alright?"

She couldn't help reaching up with her fingers, running through Gerry's head of thick blonde hair, just to make sure his head really was untouched. His fingers wrapped around her wrist afterwards, his bright blue eyes slightly wider than they usually were. "The question is are _you_ alright?"

"I guess from your perspective, I'm acting a bit out of character," she admitted, retracting her fingers. Gerry wasn't just her guard—she considered him a friend as well. And with that came the usual physical contact friends had. But suddenly he seemed stiff and formal. He was avoiding her.

"Can I help you?" Neville asked, suddenly beside her. Pansy startled badly enough Gerry almost stepped forward.

But she caught the moment he stopped himself and glanced between them suspiciously. That's when they noticed Harry coming up the way right behind Gerry.

"Ted Heathers died."

She looked at Gerry. Her guard said, "And… there was another package delivered to your home."

"Oh."


	28. Chapter 28

"I don't pray for love. I want something honest and passionate. I don't think those things exist anymore." - _Pansy to Gerry as she worked on her glass._

For the second time in her life, Pansy found herself in her home kitchen surrounded by her guards. Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Neville joined them. They watched her with curious and rapt eyes—her guards concerned for her safety while the others were waiting for the next piece of the puzzle.

Except Neville.

He seemed furious, except he kept it contained by remaining completely still, arms crossed and teeth clenched. Watching her every move with golden eyes that didn't blink. She should have felt like a lamb caught in the sights of a great wolf.

It should have unnerved her. But strangely, with him there, it made her feel rather brave. Brave enough that she reached out and opened the flap of the plain brown package with slow, steady movements. Gerry and Harry both cleared it.

She didn't have to worry about another curse. But she and Stella both expected something unpleasant. And they were right. Within the medium sized brown box was a still of her, sitting in the front garden of Longbottom Keep with Draco... and Neville, who had a giant red X marked through his face.

She handed it to him with a sad look—guess their plan hadn't worked as well as they thought it would.

The next picture was one of Draco, sitting in his office chair, a pinched look on his face as he read something from his work desk. He too had an X over his face.

Both were upsetting and had Mattie smacking her gum extra loudly.

But the third picture made Pansy cry out in both frustration and terror.

It was Wayne's family. Him, his wife, and their baby Elise, taking a stroll in what looked like a friendly park. The red drawn on the photo somehow more garish than the others, as if whoever marked the picture pressed in extra hard. With trembling fingers she held it out to him, an apology already forming.

"Found it on the edge of your property, boss," Gerry informed in his stiff tone. Which sounded more clipped than usual.

"They didn't want to take the chance of getting captured like the last one did," Harry said. "So they left it where it would surely be found with minimal risk of getting caught."

She barely heard what they said. It didn't matter that she hired her guards for this very reason, to protect her from the cult that was now stalking her in addition to all the harassment. Because of Pansy, Wayne's family was in danger. His adorable little girl was in _danger_. She wouldn't stand for it.

"You're all fired," she sputtered out, face heated. "I'll pay your wages until you find new employment. I'm sorry this has happened."

Mattie slapped her hand on the marble of the kitchen island. "Don't start any of your dramatic blubbering, Parkinson."

"Don't speak to me that way, Mattie. Do as I say. No one is getting hurt. Not because of me."

"No offense, Ms. Pansy," Wayne started in his soft, smooth voice. "But this is our job and we've had this conversation once before already. It's a risky job, we all knew that signin' on."

 _That boy is hands down my favorite_ , Stella swooned in her head and Pansy suddenly had the image of trees covered in Spanish Moss and a big, white plantation house lit up in the night. _His voice reminds me of home._

Home? She wanted to know more about where Stella came from… but her guards had to come first. Pansy turned to Neville and tapped the gold and silver chain around his wrist.

"We have to get this taken care of," she told him, referring to Gus and Stella.

"I understand," he responded, though his mouth barely moved.

The man was absolutely enraged.

_God Bless that man. I change my mind! He is hands down my favorite, exceptin' Gus of course. Granted, I don't much care for having to wait to be with my husband..._

"Of course you don't," Pansy mumbled with an eye roll. At least Stella could manage to get her mind off the fact that an entire Cult was threatening all the people she loved. She never thought she would want to go back to the way things were before. To the hateful mail and malicious albeit random packages. At least then she was their only target.

She turned to Draco. "Are you angry with me?"

"Like I would admit to that in a room full of people who would kill for you," he replied, eyeing up Neville at her side. Though he was most certainly speaking of her guards… right? "Oh don't fret, Pans, no I am _not_ mad at you."

"That does bring up an interesting question though," Hermione interrupted. "Why haven't the Brotherhood of the Chosen come after you, Draco?"

The man looked positively shocked when the witch said his first name. But he recovered quickly.

"They popped up immediately following the Dark Lord's defeat, but in small numbers with limited funding," he explained. "Pansy made an easy target. Her father died in the fighting. She had no other family to rely on and no money to investigate further, whereas even then my father still had plenty of wealth and power to snuff them out should the insects have come crawling."

"It seems they are swarming now," she said, unable to help the tremble in her voice. It happened whenever her late Father was brought up. His body had been found floating in the Black Lake a few days after the final battle at Hogwarts, and no one knew how he died.

Most likely a Killing Curse, as there was never any physical evidence to prove otherwise. And who wanted to investigate the death of one of the Dark Lord's supporters. The good guys won, her father died. End of story.

What little money he left to Pansy had been later used to hire Gerry. And buy a whole lot of glass and paints.

"Here's what we're going to do," she continued, shoving all thoughts of her Papa in the past, where they belonged. "Gerry will stay with Wayne and his family. I _need_ you to be safe and two of you will handle any intruders better than one."

"And what about you?" Gerry asked, sounding as if he already didn't approve of her plan.

"Mattie will come with me to Longbottom Keep. No one will stay here until we find a reliable Warder to protect the property." She turned to Neville. "Is that alright with you?"

Except he looked just as unhappy as all her guards did. He looked between her and Mattie, and finally decided not to argue. "Whatever it takes you make you feel safe."

Wayne kissed her cheek gently, "Don't worry about us, Ms. Pansy. If anyone makes a move, we'll be there. And we'll get them. I promise."

Gerry didn't say a word and left with Wayne without even a glance in her direction, which, if she were being honest, hurt her feelings. What could she have done to inspire the silent treatment? And from Gerry of all people? Her first guard. The one she'd known the longest.

But Neville broke through her confused thoughts. "You said money wasn't an issue, what is taking so long to get find a Warder?"

That question he directed at Draco, who previously had taken up the task. "Ah, well," the man looked at everyone besides Pansy and Mattie. "The few qualified enough to provide adequate enough wards refuse to do it."

"What for?" Neville nearly shouted.

Draco's eyes turned to Pansy, but she only nodded in understanding. "It's fine, I'll find someone," she insisted. Used to such treatment.

"Wait, what's the problem?" Harry asked before Neville could shout again.

"None of you seem to grasp the reality of Pansy's situation," Draco told them in a stern voice. "The Brotherhood of the Chosen may be on the extreme side, but they aren't the only ones who believe she should be exiled for her role in the war."

"'Role in the war'?" Neville asked, each word pointed and frankly, a little hostile. "What role?"

He turned on her, deciding not to deal with Draco anymore. Suddenly, he seemed twice as tall when all his energy was focused on her. And scary. Way scarier than an army of Mallards or a bloodlusted cult. She took a step back involuntarily when he said, "What did you do during the war?"

"Uh," she stumbled into the kitchen sink, which just made him angrier. She leaned back as he leaned in. The move made it seem like they were the only two in the kitchen, their friends forgotten.

"C'mon! Tell me!" he demanded, so heated she couldn't help but wonder why? The disruption to his life? Or to hers...? They'd been spending all their time together recently. Neville wasn't the kind of man who got angry with women and took it out on them. But his anger was a passionate thing she couldn't ignore, and she decided then that it wasn't due to the inconvenience on his life.

But to hers.

"You want the easy answer or the real answer?" she asked, happy to find she didn't feel afraid of Neville anymore. Not truly. It might be the ghosts, but the knowledge that he would never hurt her was bone deep. He would _never_ hunt her.

"Real. Always real," he said, dead serious.

"I hid in my dorm room like a scared mouse! There. Happy? You think people are mad because I 'sold out' Harry? No! They're mad because I didn't do anything to help. I didn't revolt, I didn't fight in the battle. While other students were taking up arms and joining the battle fearlessly, I stumbled under pressure and spoke in fear. I fucked up, okay?!" she shouted.

"So what are you gonna do about it then?!" he shouted right back at her. "Keep hiding in your house and make jam the rest of your life?"

"No!" she pushed at his chest, breathing hard. Why did he always manage to get under her skin? "I'm going to go and figure out a solution to my problems!"

"Good!"

"Good!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

They separated, upset and huffy, and turned to see everyone staring at them in awe.


	29. Chapter 29

"Neville and Pansy sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes a cursed bracelet, then comes spirit possession, then comes a... deadly fight with a crazed cult that kamikazes themselves in the name of a boy I watched throw up a Golden Snitch when he was 11. " - _Susan Bones in a letter to Neville._

Pansy and Bubblegum came home with him, the latter glaring at him the entire time. The stout witch walked the property silently for two hours before taking position on the second floor landing, where she could get a bird's eye view of the property. Taking her job far too seriously. But what could he do? Anytime he walked by, she glared at him until he walked out of sight.

The protectiveness he felt was slowly leaning away from Stella and more towards Pansy with every passing day he spent with her. The feeling solidifying into _his own_ instead of the usual whirlwind he got from Gus. He'd put up with her damn guards if it meant she felt safe.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Pansy ignored him completely, going to bed and firmly shutting her door with more force than necessary. Maybe things got a little heated between them. So what. Neville couldn't stand another moment of Pansy Parkinson acting like a scared little girl. She hadn't been scared when they attended school. Not... always. He remembered a tough, snide, nose-in-the-air, bully with a chip on her shoulder. Was he denying the threat against her wasn't real? No! Of course not!

But how was hiding in her glass box of a house going to deal with the problem? And why was it his fault for pointing it out?

The next morning, as an olive branch, he tried her jam for the first time. Spreading the thick apricot mixture across his toast while maintaining eye contact with her. Daring her to say anything. Almost feeling as if he wanted to fight some more. And why would he want to fight with Pansy?

Why did it get his heart beat racing just thinking about it?

Bubblegum, who slept with Pansy, continued her glare. Wordlessly watching him as if he were the threat.

He wasn't.

He was eating _toast._

Bringing the first slice up to his lips, he took a big bite while still daring Pansy to speak. Prepared to engage in several minutes of a staring contest to prove he was done putting up with her shit.

 _Except_ … Holy Hufflepuff. The jam. The JAM!? Why was it the best thing he ever ate in his life? He literally moaned as fresh sweetness invaded his mouth. Moaned while staring right at her. Was that a hint of mint? "Oh my Goddesses… this is delicious, Pancakes. You made this with my apricots?"

He didn't even like apricots! Jam was never his thing.

Okay, he was weak. So very weak. Pansy's passive face turned smug as she jammed her own toast. Mattie rolled her eyes.

Then he flopped down next to Pansy at the breakfast table. Purposely getting close just to piss off Bubblegum. "Seriously, teach me. This is amazing."

Staring contest totally failed, but his reaction to her creation managed to be the olive branch they needed. Pansy grinned big time, eating her own breakfast of fruit and oatmeal. "Maybe if you're good," she teased, which made Mattie scoff obviously.

The three of them managed to eat breakfast together without letting any of their tension spill out. It only worked because Mattie kept her mouth shut.

It made it easier to convince Pansy to take a trip to Diagon Alley, though both Pansy and himself seemed short of temper and ready to snap at a moment's notice. He managed it by offering to disguise her with magic. "I'm really good at it!"... plus he might have brought up the fact that she was the one who insisted they get their horny ghost situation taken care of so they could focus on the Brotherhood.

It was the tipping point that got Pansy to agree to the trip, her concern for her guards greater than her agoraphobia. It made it all that much harder to ignore the growing feeling in his gut.

Mattie agreed to watch the house and Harry was working on finding who had taken the pictures of Wayne's family, which meant they were free to track down the source of the bracelets.

Neville used his wand to gently change the features of Pansy's face using his Disguising Charm, something she claimed she wasn't capable of doing herself.

It annoyed him.

He'd seen that stained glass display over her bed. Watched her levitate Mallards by the dozen. Make them fly through the air like a trapeze act. She could do magic. _Astonishing_ magic. So why did she keep those babysitters around? They were like overprotective siblings that saw Neville as the bad influence boyfriend. Like he was the bad guy.

Last he checked, he wasn't the one who left a box of chopped up kitten bits in her kitchen or sent threatening photographs.

"So you're my bodyguard now," she said as her face softened into a rounder shape, her hair curling as it lightened. The rich black color turned into a bright golden blonde. The charm wasn't pick and choose. The magic usually had a mind of its own, but when Pansy's bright silver eyes darkened to a sexy, deep green, Neville had a disorienting sense of deja vu.

It took him a few moments before it passed and he could respond. It didn't help that Gus seemed to rouse the more Pansy changed. The ghost didn't say anything, but Neville had the sense that he was awake where before he'd been dormant. " _No_. I am not your damn bodyguard."

"What exactly do you have against my guards?" she asked in a clipped, short tone.

"Oh it couldn't be that all three of them have knocked me out at one point, could it?" he glared at her, knowing Bubblegum was somewhere one floor up, probably plotting his death.

Already he missed Pansy's real face, thinking that the sharp look on her softer disguise didn't quite work as well. He often found himself caught up in how expressive and evocative her face could be. Not that he could read her well, but frankly, he'd never seen anyone who could make faces like Pansy could.

"I suppose we all got off on the wrong foot that day," she conceded in a quiet voice. "But they are necessary."

"If you say so," he muttered, deciding not to fight that particular point and instead focus on the complicated wand waving the Disguising Charm required. He'd gotten quite good at it during 7th year and he remembered the movements without difficulty.

Finally, Pansy shook her head and scrunched up her nose as the disguise fell completely into place. Golden ringlets around her cheeks, forest green eyes, and a heart-shaped face seemed nearly opposite the woman that had been living with him for the last week.

"Well? How do I look?" she asked, expectantly, a hint of that dry humor coming through. He wanted to play into it but settled on honesty.

"I feel like I've seen this face before somewhere," he scratched at his neck, trying to place it. "But you definitely don't look like you usually do. Should be safe."

"Should be," Pansy rolled her too big eyes. "Mattie could come with us."

"Ughguhguhgh," he stuck his tongue out at her. "We don't need her. We're going to _Diagon Alley_. If we were going to fistfight with bears or storm Azkaban, then I might see fit to bring her along."

Another scrunch of her newly shaped button nose. "If we run into a bear I don't want to hear any complaining."

"The point," he huffed out as he marched over to grab his boots. "Is that we're _not_ going anywhere that _you_ can't protect yourself in the event of an emergency."

Pansy was poking at her face experimentally, ignoring her shoes. And him apparently. He walked over to where her own heeled boots sat by the Floo. He picked them up and set them down directly by her feet. "We're not going anywhere that I can't protect you either by the way. In case you didn't remember, I happen to be decent at Defense."

"Am I arguing?" she snatched her boots aggressively and began lacing them up.

"You have a tone."

"I'll give you a tone," she mumbled grouchily. Standing up with a huff. "See? Look? I'm coming with you."

Then they, together, _finally_ , took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as they stepped out of the hearth, she grabbed onto his arm and took a sharp breath.

Damn, he wanted to be mad but with that soft reaction he remembered her fear was genuine. How quickly he seesawed between being annoyed at her and wanting to wrap her up in a warm blanket.

"Alright, Pancake?"

"I'd be better if you would stop calling me that." Oh, that's right, she didn't need a damn blanket. She was tough without realizing it and it annoyed the hell out of him!

But she nearly toppled him over as they made their way to the back where the entrance to Diagon Alley was hidden. The few patrons in the Inn gave them a curious look.

"You'll draw _more_ attention to yourself by acting like a big ole scaredy cat. Relax." Oops. Now he was doing the cat metaphors.

"Relax," she mocked. But as he held the door open for her she seemed to shake herself. Then all seemed a bit more normal.

 _Not bad_ , Gus said. At least he didn't call Neville a 'chump' this time.

He extracted his wand from his back pocket and tapped the bricks. "Hannah said she found the bracelet on South Street. Some consignment shop."

"South Street it is then," she took deep, even breaths to steady herself. Then glared at him when she noticed he was staring. "The last time I was here, you attacked me."

"I did not! Gus did. And it wasn't an attack. He kissed you. Don't go around telling people I attacked you," he groaned in frustration. Maybe he had a tone too.

"Why are you so snippy with me today?" she tugged at his arm in reprimand and it drew attention to her pretty purple dress. It had small white dots randomly dispersed across the fabric that looked like splattered paint.

"I don't know," he admitted, eyes looking down to watch the dress shift as she walked by his side. "I hate that you're afraid all the time. And your guards annoy me. Don't call me your guard. We're friends."

"Friends," she hummed, ignoring the first thing he said.

He prepared for a fight, from the way their morning had gone so far, they were only delaying the inevitable. Every thing fraught with tension.

Except Pansy took a deep, steadying breath and forced a smile up at him. Even with her disguised face, he could tell it was _her_ smile. "Does possession make for a good friendship?"

"I mean, I wouldn't recommend it," he shot her a grin, unable to help himself. Something about that dry way she had about her, it made it so hard not to smile sometimes. "But it certainly makes for a good story. Hey Nev, how'd you and Pancake get to be such good friends? Oh you know, we got possessed by two overzealous ghosts who wanted to _bone_."

"Ugh!" but she was laughing. "I hate that term. What does it even mean?"

"You know," he said in a low voice, returning a wave to a witch he recognized across the alley. "It only really works if the guy is saying it I guess."

"Well," Pansy couldn't help but grin as they took the most popular road that led to the southern area of Diagon Alley. "A woman could do it too…given the right _tools_."

Neville's eyes bulged as he nearly tripped on his own feet. "Pancake, you're a little freak, aren't you?"

"Hardly," she stifled a laugh. "Just a thought."

Gus started laughing. A low, deep sound that filled Neville's head, and he was once again struck with that Deja Vu. She didn't look anything like herself, but those green eyes were getting more and more familiar. _She's a real laugh, your witch._

"Not mine," he reminded softly, turning his head away from Pansy.

_Not yet._

"What's that you have there?" he asked, seeing something flash in her opposite hand.

"What?" she looked up at him, eyes like gems. He missed the moonlight of her real eyes. "Oh this?"

Pansy held up a small piece of green colored glass that looked stamped in silver. "Nifty, did you make it?"

"No," she grinned. "Mattie gave it to me. It changes colors."

He watched in fascination as she swiped her thumb across the glass, the movement making the color turn from bright green to solid blue. Blue to indigo. Indigo to violet. And so on.

"She told me to leave it on red if I'm ever in danger, she has a matching piece," Pansy informed him, leaving the glass on a sunshine yellow before hiding it away in her pocket. "I wish you two would get along better."

"Um, talk to her about it then," he suggested. "She's downright hostile towards me, Pancake."

"You would think so," she lifted an eyebrow at him as they walked and talked. "But what you've seen from Mattie so far is her in a pretty decent mood actually."

"Decent? Hate to see her in a bad mood then."

They made it to South Street only a few minutes later and searched around for the shop they needed. He spotted a sign in a dirty window that said 'Mirim's' and pointed it out to Pansy.

The door stuck when they tried it but Neville was able to shoulder it open after only a second. He let Pansy step in first, her hold on his arm turning tighter.

"I got you, Pancake," he reminded her in a low voice.

"Waffles are better," she sassed back but released her frightened grip. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder like she wasn't used to it and started looking around.

It looked exactly like a consignment shop to Neville. All sorts of bits and bobs stacked high in rows of chaos and disorder. Furniture and cabinets and trinkets and shelves full of books and picture frames and shoes. Buckets of used parchment and frayed quills and huge lines of empty potion vials.

Wind chimes and dream catchers hung from the ceiling and there, right in the far corner, was a wild-eyed witch with a bright yellow pointed hat bigger than her entire upper half. Massive black curls poked out from underneath the cap and she bounced over to greet them.

"'Ello, 'ello there," she held a broom in one hand that had seen better days. And her wand in the other. If she was dusting, she was losing the war. The entire shop seemed covered in a fine layer of the stuff. "Anything in particular you youngins are lookin' for?"

Pansy kept quiet, poking through a bucket that seemed full of dried paints. So Neville stepped forward and showed off his bracelet. "Do you recognize this?"

Dropping the broom to the ground carelessly, the witch, he assumed Mirim, roughly rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, jerking his arm as she did. Then with her wide eyes she brought the bracelet right up to her face and examined the silver and gold links.

"Ooohh, yes, yes, yes, yes," she cooed, jerking his arm even further up. Her hat slid back and more curls poked out, making her seem like a giant human paint brush.

Neville was starting to feel a bit unnerved.

"Um-" he looked around for Pansy. The witch's grip on his elbow was steel strong. "I'm wondering if you know the original owner?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Mirim continued, still looking intently at the bracelet. "There's two, aye?"

Pansy, by her paint buckets, held up her wrist and shook her own bracelet in Mirim's direction.

She released the hold on his elbow and bounced across the shop in the blink of an eye, leaving him to hold his aching arm. "You'll have to look through the records yourself. I'm incredibly busy this afternoon. C'mon now, you're young, use those legs."

Reluctantly, he followed, giving Pansy a glare as she pulled out more and more paint. Mirim gestured him to the corner behind her counter. "Bottom drawer."

The store smelled even more dusty back here, but he powered through and leaned down to pull at the indicated drawer. "I thought you said you knew the original owner?" he asked as the wooden drawer pulled out. And out and out. It was _huge_! And magicked to hold more than it should.

"Obviously, I had to buy it from someone. The record should be in there."

"While he's looking," Pansy piped up. "Do you have any other art supplies?"

"Sure!" Mirim's mouth stretched into an overly large smile full of yellow teeth. "Come into the back, I have loads."

Neville watched Pansy falter as Mirim took off deeper into the building, into a separate room entirely, but she caught him watching and stuck her chin out before following.

He waited for her to leave before smiling. "Good for you, Pancake."

Then he started searching.

It was a few hours later when he found it. Mirim placed a bid on an old storage unit the building owner auctioned off because the original renter hadn't paid their fee in years. The renter's information had been sparse and only provided a last name: Barley.

"Is that your last name?" he asked Gus, pulling the record and making a copy of it.

_Ha. That sissy name? Hardly._

A set of bracelets, silver and gold linked, and a bunch of old furniture had been in the storage unit. None of which Mirim had sold yet. So Neville bought the lot while Pansy purchased an insane amount of art supplies. Paints, a few canvases, and several bent up pieces of scrap metal.

"Why don't I have it packed up and delivered for you?" Mirim asked, counting her gold pieces.

"Use my address," he couldn't help but interrupt, knowing Pansy would be highly uncomfortable with giving out her address after everything that happened.

"Thank you," she whispered softly as they left the dusty store. Both of them taking a giant gulp of fresh air. She took a hold of his arm as they walked, the gesture becoming comfortable and familiar.

"The other bracelet was sold to a Max Ruth. Does that name sound familiar to you?"

Pansy thought about it before responding, but in the end only frowned. "No, Mrs. Grant sent me the bracelet via Owl Post. She wrote a letter with it. If this Max person bought it, how did Mrs. Grant get it?"

Neither of them had any answers.

He convinced her to stop for a coffee before they went home and she expected him to take her somewhere in Diagon Alley. Instead he led her back to the Leaky, through the front door, and into Muggle London.

The culture shock shook her to her core, but he noticed her discomfort right away and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

 _He's such a sweetheart_ , Stella whispered whimsically. _I just love you two together. You act like you've been together forever._

Ignoring her, Pansy said, "Everyone we see waves at you. Do you know them? Or do they recognize you?"

He had seen a lot of his friends and acquaintances during this trip. "Maybe a little of both. I try to be friendly, but look like I have something I'm doing. Otherwise they try to stop and chat. That's the secret. If they manage to stop you, they think they have a foot in the door."

"That only works because you're you," she argued.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, they're less likely to approach because one," she held up a finger. "You're the hero, the good guy. They don't have any burning resentment or hatred towards you and two," she held up a second finger. "You're big and musclely and know how to use your wand. They know not to get on your bad side."

"Musclely? I don't think that's a word," he said, holding the door open for her to his favorite coffee shop. His Gran and Erasmus gave him so much shit for preferring the dark drink to a proper Earl Grey. But everyone had their vices.

His came in the form of coffee. Dark roasts, French press, cappuccinos, espresso, chicory coffee, Americano. He hadn't met a coffee he didn't like. And he'd been delighted to find Pansy using his cezve one morning and realizing there was something he enjoyed _more_ than Turkish coffee. And that was when someone made him Turkish coffee. Someone in a pretty dress...

"You know what I mean, Neville," she rolled her green eyes and he could practically hear Gus sighing with happiness. Then he realized why Pansy's disguise seemed familiar. When Stella took control of Pansy's body, her eyes had turned a deep forest green.

Was he looking at Stella? Bouncing blonde curls and rose red lips?

_That's my wife you're oogling, chump. Stop it._

"Huh…"

After they both received their hot drinks, Neville handling the Muggle currency with ease, they picked a nice and secluded booth to sit in. And he couldn't help but ask. "What do you mean?"

He had the pleasure of watching her cheeks heat with the slightest tint of pink. She sipped from her coffee and pointedly looked away. "You are, as Stella would say, a total stud. Life is easier when you're beautiful."

"You would know," he told her.

"Don't flirt with Stel, she's a married woman," she chided, still not looking at him.

He leaned forward over his coffee, giving her a crooked smile that had Stella swooning dramatically. _Oh sweet nectarine!_

"I'm not flirting with Stella."


	30. Chapter 30

"I think I've come to the realization that I'm not the only one hurt here... but I promise I'm going to be just fine. Better than fine, daddy. I'm going to be great." - _Hannah to her father, over a cheese and cracker plate._

"I'm going to go to Nev's," Hannah told Susan softly. The two were sitting at the very end of the dining room table at the Abbott's family home. Hannah's mom had passed away during her schooling. But Michael Abbott remarried a lovely woman named Frances and the two were now expecting.

Frances came with a giant family. She had four brothers. All were married and all had at least three kids. Hannah still couldn't keep them all in order, but was more than pleased they all seemed to consider her one of them and not the unwanted step-child.

But just in case, she often brought Susan along to dinner as a buffer. Plus Frances could cook a mean pot roast.

"Yeah? It's been what? A month?"

"Yeah," Hannah nodded, sneaking a second portion of roasted potatoes and carrots. "I'm starting to feel a bit better about the whole 'friends' thing… I think."

It might be hard at first, but the past few weeks had given her the hope it was something she could accomplish. Neville was worth it. And... he'd been right.

"Really?" Susan asked between forkfuls. "I'm impressed with you Banana."

"We'll see, I'm still debating," she told her honestly. Because all month she sat down and really thought about the things Neville said to her. The hard truths she had to face. And she absolutely did not drink a single drop of alcohol.

But by the time Thursday night's family dinner rolled around, Hannah realized exactly how right Neville was. Because she was frustrated with life at the moment, which happened, and it made her lay around, thinking about how she dealt with frustrations in the past.

When it hit her.

She used sex between them to work out her aggravations with life, not as a celebration of their relationship. And while that might be okay with some couples, it was _not_ okay with her. She couldn't tell Neville she loved him to his face when what she really loved was the outlet he provided.

A hard, sturdy... outlet... phew. Yeah. She fanned herself just thinking about it.

It definitely started with the war. They were kids, trapped in a dire situation with no way out. Sex had been exactly the physical-no-worrying-about-other-stuff thing they needed, a moment in time where they could not think about the crappy state of the world and just... be. That the sex had been so damn good was probably the reason they never separated before.

Of course he broke up with her.

But by some miracle, he still wanted to be friends.

And Hannah wanted that too. Her, Susan, and Neville. They were the best of friends for a long time. Hannah was determined to keep it that way.

While her young cousins caused an absolute mess in the living room playing Exploding Snap, she and Susan gorged on as much food as they could. They were broke and supporting themselves. Yeah, whenever family dinner came around Hannah cleared her schedule without hesitation!

"I'm thinking we should throw a massive party. Invite all the old school friends, all the DA, as many family members as we can, make a giant cake, and just dance the night away," Susan said, hastily scooping gravy onto her potatoes.

She wanted it.

She needed it! Dancing the night away sounded absolutely perfect just then.

"What are we celebrating?" Hannah laughed. "And also, I'm in. I need an all night dance party, like the ones we used to throw in the Hufflepuff common room!"

"Yesss!" Susan's shoulders started pumping up and down. "Celebrating life! And new beginnings! And really good pot roast!"

That was the thing with Susan. That woman could find the silver lining on even the darkest of clouds. "We'll invite Nev. And Pansy too. She was super nice to me, I mean, she had ample opportunity to be snide and rude but instead… She was nice and helped me out a lot."

"I'm glad to hear it, she was rather wretched in school, remember? But, we all grow," Susan smiled big and shrugged.

"Yeah," Hannah cheered. She was rewarded with several of her boisterous cousins returning the sentiment. They shouted back at her with enthusiasm before returning to her game. See? Life was good. She didn't need a _man_ to be happy. What had she been thinking? Jeez.

Frances came around the corner, wearing a bright blue apron and smiling happily. "Girls, would you care for some homemade cookies? Chocolate chip! My Nana's recipe."

"Uh, duh!" they said together. Then burst into laughter.


	31. Chapter 31

"I've never seen a love that resulted in a lasting relationship, I've only seen it destroy. Why would I want that?" - _Pansy Parkinson, age 18, after her father's funeral._

A week went by and the furniture Neville purchased from the Barley Estate collection still hadn't shown up. But neither had anything else. There were no unwanted packages or mail. No new news about her case. Harry didn't find any leads and couldn't find anything new on Ted Heathers.

But that wasn't to say the week was uneventful. Between his not-so-subtle flirting and lingering looks, Neville took up a 3-day landscaping job for a friend's grandmother, designing a garden and putting it together way quicker than Pansy thought was possible. He even asked her opinion about a few things, but other than a few easy growing flowers she could ignore and her lemon tree, Pansy didn't do much in the way of horticulture.

Once the job was complete, all the sudden Neville seemed to have new energy. He fixed the fountain out by the front hedges and repainted the formal living room—no more Mallards, no more hunter green. When he made a passing comment about possibly installing a stained glass window to her over dinner, suddenly she found new energy too. She wanted to get back to work, get back to creating and painting. A new project began to form in the back of her mind. Something to possibly make up for the fact she broke his Order of Merlin, First Class.

Then Pansy found Neville converting one of the empty rooms on the top floor of Longbottom Keep into an altar room. He didn't notice her right away, using his wand to hang up a giant floor to ceiling tapestry. It seemed right out of her own mind.

Antheia had always been her favorite of the Goddesses, mostly for the reason her father once said her mother worshiped Antheia most regularly before she passed. As Pansy didn't much remember anything about Corinna Parkinson, it seemed an easy way to hold onto the mother she never knew.

Her mother died when Pansy was only three years old, but she did have this memory of cascading black hair as her mother danced in the grass under the moonlight. More than anything she remembered the warmth of Corinna's smile as she danced.

The tapestry Neville hung seemed to have the same kind of energy. Rows and rows of flowers in every color against a star studded night sky, a full moon bright and center.

 _He loves you,_ Stella whispered across her mind. _I mean it, honey, I mean it._

It wasn't just the tapestry. A small altar sat against the far wall with several new white candles sitting on top a velvety red altar cloth. Two sitting pillows on the floor in the same color beckoned her to sit and worship. And everywhere she looked seemed to be a fresh pot of flowers. The wide windows on the far left wall provided ample light for them as did the modern skylight above.

He stepped back once the tapestry was secured to the wall. It couldn't have been a coincidence, him picking Antheia. It just couldn't have.

"How did you know?" she asked, and if her voice trembled she decided to ignore it.

He startled before turning around, giving her a small glare. "I'm going to put a bell on you, Pancake."

"I'm not a pet. How did you know?" she insisted, deadly serious.

"Know what?" he stashed his wand in his pocket. Then he looked around. "Oh, I guess I saw your brooch, that day we went to the Ministry."

That made sense. "You noticed my brooch."

"Yeah," he shrugged like it was nothing. But then he said, "I notice a lot about you." ... which wasn't nothing.

_Sweet nectarine, that man gets my heart a-pumpin'._

Except it was her heart that was pumping.

"Anyways," he continued, his face turning slightly redder. "I figured it's time to start turning this place into my home instead of just an empty house I sleep in."

"That's the operative word," she said slowly, eyes trying to take in every flower. " _Your home_. This is…"

 _He did this for you. Honey, this is him speaking volumes. He wants you here!_ Stella shouted happily. _Lord thank you!_

"At least my Gran will be happy to see me worshiping the Goddesses properly," he shrugged, trying to change the direction of their conversation.

She debated forcing it. But she wasn't sure if she would be happy with any answer he gave her.

"Do you even like your Gran?" she asked instead.

She stepped into the room, unable to resist the allure. _Flowers_ everywhere. They smelled divine and stomped all over her puny garden at home. She stopped in front of a bundle of bright yellow tulips and waited, wondering if her and Neville would fight or flirt? It could go either way, the way things had been between them lately.

"Yeah, of course. She raised me."

"That doesn't always mean you _like_ someone. My father raised me and we didn't necessarily get along."

"Do you want to tell me about your father?" he asked softly. "You've been mentioning him a lot lately."

"Are you sure you want to hear about him? He was a Death Eater."

Pansy pulled up her dress and came down on her knees before the tapestry, sitting back on one of the comfortable pillows. Neville sat beside her, but facing the door instead of the tapestry. He laid back on the pillow, crossing his arms behind his head, seeming tired from his long work week. "Yes, if you want to tell me about him."

"I think he was a selfish man," Pansy began, holding her hands in her lap. Their conversation grew quiet. "Mostly he just thought of himself, kept to himself. I like to think he was protecting his heart after losing my mother so early."

"What was his name?" Neville asked, face impassive.

"Tav Parkinson."

"The one…" he paused, wincing at his own wording. "He was found in the lake?"

She nodded. Yes, the Death Eater found floating in the Black Lake two days after the battle was her father. "No one knows how he died. No one who witnessed it is alive."

And mostly she just remembered the numb feeling of being shuffled around the Ministry of Magic afterwards, people trying to tell her what was what. Where his money had gone-the war. What happened to his property? Seized by the Ministry for reparations. No one cared to explain how he died. Just how things were going to be afterwards.

Pansy hadn't cared about the house or Tav's possessions. He wasn't a sentimental man who held on to keepsakes and most of his monetary value came from the property. What really bothered her was how they also seized all of Corinna's jewelry.

Pansy didn't have anything that once belonged to her mother.

They were quiet for sometime, looking at the flowers and enjoying the fragrant scent, relaxing in the quietness. It was so peaceful, even Stella seemed pacified. Finally he reached out and grabbed her hand, rubbing the back of her knuckles with his fingers. It sent a wild feeling straight from her hand right up to her head, until she was dizzy.

"Your mum died when you were young?"

"Yes," she gulped, nearly passing out from his touch. It was only the back of her hand. Why did it feel so… intimate? Why did she have to resist the urge to moan.

His eyes blinked slowly. "My parents were tortured to insanity by the Lestranges right after I was born. I never knew them."

"That's why they live at St. Mungo's and you were raised by your Gran."

"Yep, whom I love dearly. She just drives me crazy," he smiled gently at her under hooded eyes. "And her new husband is a sniveling jerk but somehow, I don't know why, he makes her happy."

Happy. She wondered what that was like. If staying at Longbottom Keep these past several weeks taught her anything, it was that she was a boring, scared little girl pretending to be an adult. A single trip to Diagon Alley and Neville had her remembering that she used to enjoy so much more from life.

Like painting with oils. And gardening. And trying new foods. _Spicy food!_

Neville had lived. Really lived. He traveled and saw the world. Made friends wherever he went. Worked hard at anything he set his mind to.

His friends were loyal, and truly cared for his well being. It only reminded her that she had to hire out her guards and though a little voice, not Stella's, reminded her that Wayne once proclaimed he would work for Pansy no matter what she couldn't help but feel like she was a failure compared to Neville, making her guess as to why he would ever be interested in someone like her.

Why he was touching her like he could do it all day.

The two of them wouldn't even be friends if they hadn't been cursed.

He continued to brush his thumb in gentle circles over her hand and she wondered if he was freaking out as badly as she was. She was no longer certain of her feelings and couldn't figure out why he made this room into an altar space for her. It was _his_ home. Not hers.

"Why are you holding my hand, Neville?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I think you know why."

"Because Gus and Stella love each other, and we feel what they feel."

He shifted slightly, leaning towards her. Face tan from spending extra time in the sun and eyes a deep gold color she wanted to paint over and over again. "Not just what they feel, Pancake…"

Pansy jumped up and yanked her hand away. "I'm going to make dinner," she told him before turning on her toe and running away.

Literally running.

_You know, hon, you don't just feel what I feel. I feel what you feel too. And you're feelin' some type of way for that man, I can guarantee you that._

Pansy ran all the way down four flights of stairs, rushing to the kitchen. Where she hid in the pantry, gasping for breath, and still feeling the lingering touch of Neville's fingers on her own. She leaned against the back shelf, a sack of potatoes pushing into her rib uncomfortably. A can of peas tipped off the ledge and fell to the ground, where it rolled next to her foot.

But who cared?

She was in love—and she'd never been so scared in her life.


	32. Chapter 32

"She's strange. Strangely strange. Can't figure it out, but... damn if I'm not going to try my hardest to..." - _Neville to Gus in the middle of the night, right outside Pansy's door._

The Barley Estate furniture got delivered the next morning. A fainting couch that had seen better days, two ottomans that were dirty with decades worth of dust, and an oak roll up desk with several missing drawers.

Her paint supplies called to her too, fingers itchy to craft. It had been weeks since she last worked and she was starting to feel the lack. But she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out. Stella, Gus, and Neville. The three of them were trying to seduce her, all in different ways.

Stella was the most obvious, and most eager since Pansy's dramatic hide-a-way in the pantry. She constantly pointed out all the 'delicious' aspects of Neville's physical body whenever she could. Teaching her about things she simply had no previous knowledge of. And the worst part… being unable to get away from hearing about all the different ways Stella and Gus … expressed their love.

Gus too poked through Neville's personality at times, and she only recognized it because of Stella. Neither she nor Neville had lost control of themselves since they started sleeping regularly, thanks to the Dreamless Sleep potions and different sleep schedules, but every once in a while Neville's bright golden brown eyes would darken to a chocolaty color, his jaw seeming sharper.

And the look he would give her would make any woman want to swoon. It was very _male_ , that look. Very arrogant in a way Neville simply wasn't. It certainly made Stella swoon anyways, which would get her going on the never ending mission to Seduce Pansy.

_It's not just that I want to be with my husband, anymore, honey. You and that stud would be perfect together. It's downright lucky the bracelets made it to you two, and not some strangers._

Pansy still hadn't heard anything from Mrs. Grant, the woman who sent her the bracelet. But the way things were going lately, Pansy didn't think luck had anything to do with her involvement. Coincidences didn't happen in the magical world.

She was beginning to think those bracelets had been purposely sent to her and Neville.

Oh Neville.

He was the worst one, Pansy thought. Did he not think she didn't notice those little touches he kept giving her? Or that he watched her door at night? She found him just two evenings ago, asleep, back against the wall, just opposite her bedroom door.

He hated being called her guard, but then he did just that. Protecting her while she slept. Bound and determined to keep her safe even though Mattie watched and patrolled the property.

If he wasn't also doing his best to keep himself from losing control to Gus, Pansy was certain he would have made a much stronger move on her.

"Who is Barley?" she asked Stella.

_How would I know?_

"You cursed these bracelets to carry on your spirit after death. How did they end up in the Barley Estate?"

A steely silence was her only answer. But that just meant there was an answer there to be found.

Neville came bounding down the stairs just then, excited to inspect the furniture and hopefully figure out the next clue to their mystery bracelets. It wasn't like they were getting any information from Stella and Gus, the ones who actually cursed the bracelets in the first place!

"Finally!" he exclaimed. "That witch took forever getting this stuff delivered, didn't she?"

He went right to the roll up desk and started snooping around, looking through the one remaining drawer, which was empty, and pulling up the slat to the compartment within. It caught but after some gentle nudging, he managed to open it all the way.

Pansy turned her attention to the fainting couch, running her fingers into the grooves created by the faded cream colored cushions. "Feeling faint?" Nev teased her as he searched the desk.

"You should get a couple of these," she teased back. "You don't want to keep it right? There seems to be a lot of air under the seat, maybe something could be hidden in there?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "Destroy it if you want."

She pulled out her wand and gently removed the thread that held the cushions together. She watched it unravel at a slow pace, until she could remove the main seat cushion with ease. Only to find nothing but dust. She did much the same with the ottomans, tearing them apart slowly, looking for any clue or sign left behind.

"Any luck?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Maybe," Neville had his arm deep in the empty space where a drawer once sat in the desk, at the very bottom. "I feel a notch, it's jammed. The wood is swollen… I can't … quite… get it… ahhh…"

A hidden slot snapped open on the top of the desk next to the roll up slats, revealing a dusty drawer full of papers and envelopes.

_Don't, sweetheart. You won't like what you find._

But Neville was already cheering in victory, removing his arms from inside the desk and standing up. She rushed over, her curiosity too great. And pulled out the first photograph, gasping in awe.

A tall man with richly dark eyes wore a gray pinstripe suit and fedora to match, staring into the camera with a serious face as he stood by a familiar looking fainting couch. Except she _knew_ those eyes and she could spot the slightest hint of a smile.

Beside him sat a ray of sunshine. A smirking woman with forest green eyes and blonde curls that came to her shoulders. She wore a black wiggle dress, the neckline risque at best, and black gloves to match. They looked a deadly couple, attractive and powerful and just mischievous enough to get into trouble.

"Neville," she whispered, unable to stop looking at them. They grinned up at her, like they had a secret they would never share, before looking at each other with eyes full of love. It wasn't gushy. It was potent, full of desire.

She flipped over the photo and found cursive handwriting: _Stella Clementine Bohnefeld & Augustus Estampeur._

"We found them," she said once he came to her side. She ignored the slight flutter her heart gave at his nearness and instead showed him the photo. "He's older than her."

_So? I always loved that dress, it did wonders for my figure. Gus could never keep his hands off me when I wore it._

"Daaaaamn, Stella was a real looker wasn't she?" Neville said, leaning in to get a closer look. "Oh, shut it, Gus. I am not ogling your wife!"

 _I wouldn't mind if he did,_ Stella purred. _Tell him he should be ogling you hon. Ooo—maybe you should get a dress like mine? It's a guaranteed success, tried and proven._

"Shush, Stella," Pansy mumbled, pulling out the rest of the photographs and papers. The photo had given the ghost a burst of energy, and Pansy could feel her trying to take over, gain control. Physically, Pansy could feel herself practically drooling, her desire for Neville and Gus ramping up to dangerous levels. "And stop that!"

She tried to focus. One was a newspaper clipping, of a jewelry store robbed at gunpoint in London. The unknown couple made out with thousands of diamonds and gold and neither the couple, nor the stolen gems were found ever again.

"You did this?" she asked, mouth hanging open. "Stella! You robbed a jewelry store with a _gun_?!"

_I'm a Muggle, honey, as you Brits like to call us. I didn't have a wand at my disposal. Gus fudged the cameras with his, knocked out the guards as I looted everything I could._

"You two would have been set for life," Neville commented, blending seamlessly into the conversation. But he held up two death certificates. Gus and Stella's. They both died on the same day, the 21st of February, 1958. No cause of death was listed.

"Did the police get you? Was it a shoot out?" Pansy wondered.

"None of my business?" Neville shook his head, looking frustrated. "You're possessing me and trying to take control of my body, that makes this my business, you old codger."

_Keep lookin' through the photographs, Stella whispered. There. See it?_

Pansy held up a wedding photo for Neville to see, this one a Muggle photo. It didn't move like the others. "London…" she whispered, taking in the Duchesse satin of Stella's floor-length gown and dramatic white flower bouquet. Gus too looked dapper and charming… and they both looked beyond in love.

_You see him? That man right there? Hiding? That man is Beau Bohnefeld... my daddy._

She did see him, standing in the background, hiding behind trees. But the photographer managed to get the entirety of his face.

"I thought you said Gus took away his memories before you came to London?" Pansy asked.

_Daddy is not the kind of man who takes a loss lightly. Gus and I might've taken his memories, but… he didn't forget that somehow Gus got the better of him. He chased us across the ocean. His vengeance venomous. I was his sole heiress, there... there was a lot at play there..._

The silver and gold chain link bracelet suddenly felt heavier on her wrist. "Oh…" Pansy felt her eyes water. Stella didn't have to tell her what happened next. "They didn't curse the bracelets," she told Neville, throat choking up. "Stella's father did."


	33. Chapter 33

"I'm going to travel one day. Get enough saved up and take off for a few years. See all the things I'm missing, all the things I can't even dream of..." - _Pansy to Mattie over a scone and strong cup of coffee._

Pansy made a savory tarte tatin with potatoes and leeks that was Mattie's favorite meal and probably came out looking better than it ever had at home. Harry stopped by, and both men looked so impressed by her dinner, she didn't have the heart to tell them it was a fluke. Mattie didn't say anything either, taking her slice, glaring deathly daggers at Harry, and going back to her patrolling.

Harry and Neville ate like they hadn't ever eaten dinner before and then sat back, rubbing their stomachs in pleasure. But Pansy's head spun with everything they learned that day. All this time, she and Neville both assumed that Stella and Gus knew they were going to die, and did what they could to avoid being separated. Cursing the bracelets so their spirits could live on.

Finding out it wasn't them, but Stella's father who did that… Well, it changed things. Pansy wished she could say it didn't matter, but where the intention came from certainly did.

Beau Bohnefeld _cursed_ his only child and the man she loved, making sure Stella and Gus couldn't be together… even in death.

Yes, that changed things for Pansy. She didn't want to be the one keeping them apart any longer and from the looks Neville kept giving her, he seemed to be thinking along the same lines. As soon as Harry left, she feared they'd been having a rather serious conversation.

Pansy was tempted to make dessert and prolong the visit.

But then Harry said, "I'm just at a loss of what to do, Pansy. I have no leads, I have no witnesses, and your case file has been seriously mishandled. Malfoy's ticked off at me and threatening to sue on your behalf. Is there anything you can think of that you haven't told me already? Even the smallest detail might help."

"Everything I've gotten from them I sent to the Ministry, Harry."

She coughed, pushing around a bit of potato on her plate with her fork. Suddenly her appetite was totally gone. "They saw it was _my name_ and probably tossed it in the bin. Who cares if the girl who tried to sell out the Great Harry Potter is in danger? I'm probably better off dead."

She felt Neville's foot push against her ankle. Sock against sock. "I care," he said with a mean look. "Don't talk poorly about my friend, Pancake."

"I can talk poorly about myself," she argued, ignoring the grating feeling of hearing the word 'friend' come from him. They weren't friends.

They were _doomed._

_Aw hon… it's important to keep your man happy, show him you're tough enough to handle this. He just needs reassurance._

"It's not my bloody job to keep everyone else happy," she snapped at Stella and regretted it immediately when Harry looked at her as if she were insane.

Pansy had grown used to talking to herself without seeming barmy because she'd only been around Neville lately. And he understood her lunacy perfectly, as he was going through the exact same thing.

"My apologies, it's hard to ignore the voices sometimes," she told Harry, making a crazy face.

"You're not better off dead," Harry insisted. "I'm glad you ran into Nev, because now we know what a real problem The Brotherhood is. Gin and I have been going through some of my fan mail, looking to see if they ever sent me anything we can trace back. I promise we're looking for clues and I'll let you know if we find anything. It's just… my boss doesn't want me working on a dead case, so I'll have to do this in my free time..."

She couldn't help but feel a smidgen of appreciation for Harry. He seemed so humble and genuine when he made his promise that he was looking for the Cult that hunted her. And Neville sat right beside him, supporting her.

"He's not giving up," Neville told her, scooting around the bench until they were side by side. He took her hand reassuringly. "Neither am I."

"I know," she couldn't help it. Maybe it was Stella cheering her on, the wedding photo she couldn't forget about, the altar he made for her... maybe it was all the flirting. Whatever it was, Pansy couldn't stop herself from leaning in and kissing his cheek softly. His beard tickled her chin. And something he used—body wash or soap or aftershave—smelled of oakmoss. Such a strong, earthy scent that it hit her right in the chest and made her take a much deeper breath than she intended.

A kind of strangled squeak filled the kitchen and Pansy thought for a brief moment it was her. _That scent_. She wanted to roll around in it. But as she leaned back, feeling a bit dazed and Stella shouting _Hallelujah!_ in her head, Pansy realized there were two others who had entered the kitchen.

Mattie, smacking away at a piece of gum, and Hannah, who looked totally and completely betrayed. Mattie held the girl's arm pinned behind her back. "Found this one snooping around outside."

There was great shuffling as Harry, Neville, and Pansy all jumped up from the dinner table.

"Get your hands off her!" Neville shouted as he and Harry rushed over to grab Hannah.

"I wasn't snooping!" Hannah shouted equally as loud, her lip beginning to quiver. "I just couldn't decide if I wanted to knock on the door or not and then by the time I mustered up the courage I realized it was dinner time and decided to come around back!"

And Pansy spotted that look on Neville's face. She immediately threw herself in front of Mattie before a fight could break out. While Harry pulled Hannah away, Neville turned on them. Fully ticked off.

"Get out of my way, Parkinson!"

"No! Mattie was only doing her job."

"Her job is to guard _your_ house, not mine. I'm sick of them!" Then he turned to Mattie, pointing at the back door. "And Hannah is welcomed here anytime, _unlike you_."

"My job," Mattie said casually, as if everyone wasn't yelling. "Is to protect Ms. P. And where is Ms. P? She's staying at your house."

Another squeak from Hannah. "She's _staying_ here, Nev?"

"No—well—yeah—"

"It's not what you think, Hannah."

Not yet anyways...

Pansy couldn't help but feel badly for the girl. Heartbreak was never easy. And the situation wasn't exactly cut and dry.

"I'm not speaking to you," she snapped meanly, big brown eyes starting to water. "Nev, answer me honestly! Is she _living with you_?"

Hands up in surrender, Neville took a deep breath. "Yes, she is. But—"

"I am the _biggest_ idiot on the face of the earth!" Hannah shouted so loudly everyone's ears began to ring.

She turned around, hair flying wildly, and pointed at Pansy, mouth open like she was about to scream louder than a mandrake when she suddenly went motionless.

Hannah's big brown eyes fell on Pansy's wrist, and the bracelet that circled it. Her face fell before she stormed from the kitchen without another word, sobbing her head off as she did.

"Hannah wait," Neville groaned in frustration, rushing after her. The back door slammed for the second time.

While Harry looked around awkwardly and Mattie continued to smack her gum. "That was well done, Matt, what are you doing dragging her in here like that?"

"She seemed shady." Smack smack. "I'm only here to make sure you're safe."

"I'm _fine_ ," she insisted.

"More than," her friend grinned. Wickedly. "I see we've graduated to cheek kisses with the vagabond."

"Firstly, that is none of your business," Pansy snapped while Harry stifled a chuckle. "Oh, shut it Potter!"

He shrugged, laughing. "I will catch up with you later, Pancake."

"Don't call me that!" Pansy shouted, the frustrating turn the night had taken clearly contagious. Her mood was suddenly sour.

The back door opened again, Neville stomping in. "Seriously! What was that!"

"Don't yell at Mattie that way!" Pansy shouted back, and had a scary realization. Neville was _not_ afraid of her guards. Not at all. Most weren't afraid of Mattie to begin with, but after they really got to know her, and therefore realized how deadly she was, they became more wary.

Neville showed no signs of wariness. No signs of fear. And now she realized he never did, despite getting into altercations with them before.

And more... he was _pissed off_.

"I'll yell at her any damn way I please! I did not invite you into my home so you could manhandle my ex-girlfriend!"

"What on earth is your problem with my _guards_!"

And that's how it started.

The biggest fight either one of them ever had. They were nose to nose, yelling in each other's faces, spit flying everywhere.

"My problem is they are _always around_!"

"So? That's their job! I hired them to do that! You agreed to Mattie coming home with us-"

"Agreed to her protecting you! You don't need protection from _Hannah_. It's shite! You don't need them-"

"You're the one overreacting about it-"

"You went to Diagon Alley with me and everything was fine-"

"How dare you disrespect Mattie that way-"

"But as soon as your guards show up you act like a helpless little girl, suddenly not able to do magic-"

"Who is not only my employee but my friend as well-"

"Who can't defend herself which is total nonsense-"

"And I can't believe you think I would let you talk to her that way-"

"Because I've seen that stained glass above your bedroom window and _I know you can do magic_ -"

"And I am sorry about Hannah but she showed up without any warning-"

"But you've become so dependent on your guards you don't even realize how powerful you are-"

"But you broke her heart and won't even tell her why it is that I'm always around, of course she's upset with you! I would be upset with you too!"

He grabbed her shoulders. "I'M NOT DATING YOU."

Pansy held up her hand just in time to stop Mattie from responding to Neville's physical touch. He didn't shake her, or hurt her in any way. Just got close enough Mattie would usually do something about it.

But in this case, Pansy wanted to handle it herself. Taking deep breaths and trembling slightly, Pansy lifted her hands up to his and pushed them away.

It was the way he said it.

He blinked rapidly, standing up straight as if he couldn't believe how close he'd gotten. And she asked the question that was suddenly burning across her mind. "Is that the problem here, Neville?"

That they weren't dating?

"I… ummm…"

"Answer me!"

"Yes, I do have a problem with that," he admitted boldly.

"And now _my_ problem is that you told me you weren't the kind of guy who could jump in and out of relationships, remember?"

"I'm not," he insisted.

" _My_ problem is that you still call her 'Banana' and 'baby' all the time, even when she isn't around."

"I…"

" _My_ problem, Neville, is that we are not in love at all. If it weren't for Stella and Gus, we would not feel the things we feel. So stop calling me Pancakes, stop acting like you're my boyfriend, and absolutely stop disrespecting _my friends_."

He seemed to shake himself, rubbing at his wet cheeks and when he didn't reply, Pansy turned to Mattie. "Take me home."


	34. Chapter 34

"I prayed for you, and I'll never stop. Not until we're together again." - _Overheard by Pansy, age 4, outside her father's study._

_That was some conniption fit,_ Stella whispered across her mind. Pansy lay in her own bathtub, the water nice and hot, trying not to ball her eyes out. Her throat hurt from screaming at Neville only a few hours prior but the worst part was all the uncertainty she felt.

"He only feels so strongly because of Gus," she insisted. She understood the feeling herself, but maybe she was better at separating what she felt from what Stella felt—a line that might be a little more blurred for Neville.

Oh who was she kidding? She was a jumbled up mess of emotion and there was _no_ denying it.

But… surely she wasn't the only one having feelings of confusion. It was the forced time together. That's all. Two damn horny ghosts who wanted each other so badly they were influencing their hosts. Who then went on to live together for nearly two months... of course there was some confusion!

_Never met anyone who lived so far in denial before, hon. You're in for one mighty rude awakening._

"It's Gus," Pansy insisted and groaned at the sense of Deja Vu. She'd been in the bath once before, arguing with Stella. And that night hadn't gone well.

She pulled the plug in the tub, the hot water no longer appealing, and stood up. Feeling kind of weepy. Gerry showed up just after Pansy arrived back in her home, saying Wayne needed time alone with his family and it gave Mattie a chance to go rest in her own bed for the night.

But other than that, he hadn't said a word to her and she just didn't understand why. It made her feel incredibly lonely.

And the irony of feeling lonely when there was literally another person living in her head was not lost on Pansy.

_You're not lonely,_ Stella insisted. _You're missing him. Neville. These feelings aren't completely one-sided, hon._

It was the first time Stella had said his name instead of her usual 'stud', and something about hearing it in that thick accent made Pansy want to smile.

_See? Just hearing his name made you grin like a schoolgirl._

"No," Pansy argued, grabbing a towel to dry off. "It was hearing your accent. Maybe I'm in love with you, Stella."

A sultry laughter filled her head. _But I'm a married woman_ Stella purred happily. _I only have eyes for one man. C'mon baby girl, you and I... we're some type of friends, aren't we? Sometimes you need a friend to tell you how you feel before you can believe it yourself!_

She got ready for bed, ignoring as Stella attempted to seduce her with tales of exactly how much she loved Gus, and the numerous ways she expressed it. She crawled into the familiar sheets, looking up at her stained glass. The moon light lit it up as the small cuts of glass shifted, throwing shades of green across her white sheets. A cascading effect made possible by the only magic she could do.

It was beyond soothing and despite the fact all she could think about was _sex_ , Pansy fell asleep. She hadn't taken a Dreamless Sleep Potion. And lulled by the comfort of her own home and the ever intensifying feelings she felt, she fell right into a shared dream with Neville.

And this time, he wasn't straight fucking the life out of her like before.

Instead, he moved between her legs with a sweet slowness that ached in the best possible way. Sharing a kiss she felt down to the bones. The tips of her breasts pressed into his chest with each stroke and the silk sheet around their connected waists added a texture that caressed the skin while Russ Hamilton played in the background.

"Marry me," he whispered against her lips.

She gasped, a slow stroke hitting deeper than the others and the emotional sentiment piercing straight through her. "What do we do about Daddy, baby? He found us once before..."

"I am not afraid of your father," he insisted, his words an intimate whisper against her neck. "I'm afraid of losing you forever."

A cry escaped her lips as Pansy sat up from her bed, alone, heart racing. The orgasm fading as the moment passed, but the emotion remained. She was so enormously in love, how would she ever be the same again?

Fingertips tingling, Stella paced in her mind. _Give us what we both want, sweetheart. Give me my Gus, and take Neville for yourself. You can't possibly think any of us would ever harm you. Gus and I aren't malevolent… remember? Just-_

"Naughty," Pansy completed for her. "Just naughty."

From the heart of the house, Pansy heard the Floo roar to life. And there was only one person who had direct access to her Floo. She pushed the sheets aside and walked to her bedroom door, pausing to listen for Gerry and Neville to get into it. Gerry would have heard the Floo just as well as she had.

Except the knob turned slowly before the door opened just enough for her to see Neville's tired face. He pushed through the small opening and shut the door firmly behind himself, tapping the silvered knob with his wand before he turned to face her.

And he kissed her, making her understand the phrase 'take my breath away' in a split second. He tasted like coffee and sunshine and _hers_ , though she hadn't the faintest clue why. His unshaven stubble bit into her cheeks as a soft tongue rubbed and coaxed her own.

Hands came to her waist to lift her up, he pulled her flush against his chest, kissing her with all the tenderness and care in the world. Matching the feeling she felt. The feeling shared in the dream.

A love that would never end.

But she cried out and pulled her face away because it wasn't real. It didn't stop him from kissing her cheek, and then her jaw, and down her neck like he couldn't possibly get enough of her.

"No, Gus, no," she mumbled, attempting to push at his shoulders. He didn't budge, but she hadn't pushed that hard. Stella was shouting in her mind.

_Don't stop! Don't stop, Pansy!_

"Not Gus," he shook his head, looking up at her with golden brown eyes, just long enough to confirm he was in control. Then his hands lifted her further up so he could kiss across her chest.

Pansy had kissed before. Had been kissed before. But never like this.

_I told you! I told you!_

"Stella shush," she panted. "Nev, I need you to stop. I can't handle this."

"Yes you can," he mumbled between kisses. His lips dragging against her collarbone, sucking on the skin with lazy intention, and getting closer and closer to her burn scar. "You're so much stronger than you think."

"That-" she gasped when he found a sensitive spot. "-'s noooootttt what I'm talking about, Nev."

His arm banded beneath her thighs, keeping her held up and against him, as his other hand came to the back of her head. Fingers speared through her messy hair and gripped her skull as he kissed along the edge of her scar intimately.

"Neville!" she shouted, realizing she rather liked her chest being kissed.

_I knew that man could kiss! I told you so!_

"Shut up Stella!" Pansy shouted, this time louder. "Neville! I… oh Goddesses…"

Somehow her legs got wrapped around his waist and her back was pushed up against the foot board of her bed. The same sensations from her dream were suddenly reality. The silk of her pajama shorts did nothing to mask the hardness of his body, pressing into her. Pinning her. Rubbing against sensitive places that hadn't ever been touched before.

Feeling seduced and wanted and a well of desire all at once.

His mouth came up and over her jaw before taking her lips again. "Wait-" she pulled away for the second time. " _Wait_ , it's not real."

"How can you say that?" he asked, voice husky with hurt.

"We are piggybacking on their relationship, _their_ love," she insisted. "And what about… what about Hannah?"

The mention of his ex finally got him to pause and he took a step back. Though he still held onto her, so she went with him. The sensation of having her legs wrapped around his waist made her want to rethink this whole 'waiting' thing.

Neville shook his head, wading over to place her softly on the bed. He came down on his knees before her, looking up from between her legs as he took her hand. Seeming as vulnerable as she felt. His thumb brushed over the bracelet that connected them. And he seemed on the verge of tears when he said, "This is my fault."

Shock kept her totally still, even Stella seemed to go motionless within. "What do you mean?" she asked. Did _he_ send her the bracelet? Is that why she couldn't get into contact with Mrs. Grant? What about Max Ruth? That didn't make any sense...

"I was trying to figure out why I wanted to break things off with Hannah, figure out what I wanted exactly… So I prayed. Prayed for the first time in years."

"What uh," Pansy felt goosebumps appear down her arms, a whisper of the Goddesses over her skin. They were listening as intently as she. "What did you pray for?"

"Answers, and…" his voice broke. "And…"

"Go on," she encouraged.

"I wished for an all consuming love," he told her, heart in his eyes. "A true love..."

That is... that's the feeling she couldn't describe. That's what Gus and Stella had.

"Because I realize that's what I didn't have with Hannah. It gave me the guts to go break things off with her for good… and where I got this…"

He held up his wrist and his own bracelet, the chains clinking together. "A cursed bracelet that possessed me with the spirit of a man who has his own all consuming love. A consuming love that literally _defines_ him. My fault, Pansy. I'm sorry. _I prayed for this_. And as usual, I got what I wished for in the most unexpected of ways. I might still be affectionate with Hannah, she's still a huge part of my life, but I don't love her. I never loved her."

Pansy leaned forward, placing her hand against his shoulder. "You think you're going to get that, get what Gus and Stella have, with boring, frightened, no-good Pansy Parkinson?"

"Don't," he leaned in closer, bringing his hands to cup her cheeks. "Don't you talk about my Pancake like that. Don't you remember the first dream we shared? Maybe they are the influence of our ghosts, but you smelled of paint and lemons to me. You think Stella smells like that? I called you my wife. Gus and Stella were never together after they got married... but I called _you my wife_."

"Neville…"

"But I know what you've been through," he continued gently, one had coming down to softly touch the burn scar across her chest. It sent heat shooting through her body. "I know the situation is hairy at best," his fingers traveled up, spreading out as he caressed her scar until he reached her neck.

Properly seducing her.

"What with Stella and Gus and that damn cult… So I'm just going to ask," he cupped her jaw, thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "Is there any part of you, even a little part, that wants to be with me as badly I want to be with you?"

_If you don't say yes right this very second I will scream nonstop for the rest of our lives, Pansy Parkinson_! Stella shouted through her mind. _You won't ever sleep again, you hear me? I'm not—_

"Stella shut it," Pansy snapped at her ghost while leaning into Neville's touch. "I… you might want an all consuming love, but I need something real, Nev. If by some miracle we manage to separate from our ghosts, I need to know the love isn't going to go with them."

It might kill her if she opened herself up again only to be dropped off like a bad sack of potatoes. She'd spent every single year since the end of school feeling vulnerable and exposed, no matter what security measures she put into place. No matter how many guards she hired.

The thought of purposely opening herself to Neville, only for him to realize he didn't love her, would break her heart in ways she couldn't fathom.

"Believe my words," he begged. Literally on his knees. "Not once did I ever feel this way for Hannah. Not even a fraction. I think about you _all_ the time. I miss you even when you're asleep. You say you're boring, but every moment with you is a constant surprise, and yeah, maybe I learned this one from Gus, but if anything were to happen to you, I would go crazy. Like pick a fight with one of your guards crazy."

Neville leaned up, rising through the space made by her knees, until they were nose to nose and she leaned back on her elbows. "Tell me you believe me."

Gulping, Pansy nodded because it was the truth. "I believe you."

He smiled, the corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. "Now tell me you feel the same."

But that one was harder. She was in love. Because _Stella_ was in love with Gus. And it didn't matter how many times Stella bombarded her with stories and whispers of her great love and the great sex that went with it. Pansy would never be sure where the line was, the line that separated what she felt from what Stella felt.

He waited patiently for her answer, eyes never leaving hers.

_Sweetheart_ , Stella began.

"Stella, don't-"

_Just listen to some advice. One friend to another, alright? Love is… never simple but choosin' to love someone, that choice is a_ definin' _moment that lasts forever. Holding back, it might be the smart thing to do, to give your head time to catch up, but if God wanted your head and heart to be on the same page honey, he wouldn't have put them so far apart. Go with your heart._

"Go with my heart," Pansy repeated, out loud. That heart immediately started thumping at a rapid pace, as if to say _Go! Do it!_ And Pansy didn't think it was Stella.

Not this time. It was all her. Gulping, as she did the nonsensical thing for once, she said, "I feel the same."

He burst into the biggest smile she'd ever seen, one she couldn't help but return.

"Fuck, I love this," he shifted forward, forcing her to lay flat on her back. He braced on his elbow and looked down at her, using his other arm to wrap beneath her knee, keeping it bent. Pushing himself between her legs.

It made her moan, the feeling sexual and unexpected.

Neville kept grinning, which sent her heart further into a wild frenzy. The anticipation alone had her shivering with excitement. Experimentally, she pushed her hips against his to see how good it would feel. The hard length of his erection pressed firmly against damp panties and made her gasp... but the best feeling was seeing the look of pleasure that took over Neville's face.

He repeated the motion and said, "Tell me you're going to undress for me."

_Lord have mercy!_ Stella shouted happily. _I'm gonna teach you how to drive this man as craaaazy as he drives you._

"I don't need your help, Stel," Pansy reached up and began unbuttoning the front of her silk pajama shirt. Slowly. One button at a time. "I'm going to undress for you, Neville."

He shuttered above her, eyes dipping down to the skin she slowly revealed. "Tell me you're going to—"


	35. Chapter 35

"You have to be prepared for an attack—an enemy isn't just going to let you go grab your wand because you weren't expecting a duel." - _Harry Potter to Neville, ages 15._

Her door blasted open before he could finish. It was none of her guards and none of his friends either. A strange man stood with his wand out, dressed in a dark red robe with the hood pulled up.

The Brotherhood. It hit her then. The reason she'd been staying at Longbottom Keep was because her property was currently unwarded and not safe. Duh.

Neville scrambled off her and dove for his own wand, which had somehow found its way underneath her bedside table. He stumbled, definitely not expecting an attack. Neither had she.

_Honey! Get your wand!_

Oh. DUH. Double Duh.

The man rushed in, " _Stupefy!_ "

It sent Neville crashing over her bed, over the headboard, and to the floor. Something crashed and glass broke.

Then the man turned his wand. It stuck out through the darkness, coming right for her. Pansy rolled over the bed at Stella's instructions, thought not nearly as gracefully as she imagined, and rushed into the bathroom. The last place she had her wand. She hoped her guards were okay. She hoped Neville would be okay.

Why couldn't she think?

_Hon, why don't you let me handle this one?_

"Wand, wand, wand, wand," she stumbled through the bathroom and slammed the door shut, rushing over to the counter where her Willow wand laid on the counter, where she set it prior to her bath earlier.

The door behind her blasted open in the same fashion her bedroom door had, banging as it swung violently.

 _DUCK!_ Stella shouted.

She moved to the side, slamming into the wall by her vanity with a painful grunt as red sparks flew by her and exploded her shower curtain. It burst into wild flames. Then she reached out and grabbed her wand, turning, and pointing at the intruder.

He stepped into the bathroom but Pansy couldn't think of a single spell to cast. "Uh… uh…"

_Pansy! USE IT._

"They said you were a great threat to our 'Savior'," the intruder told her in a laughing voice. "Yet you can hardly defend yourself."

"Threat?" she trembled, backing up slowly, trying to remember a single Defense class. Surely she didn't skip all of them!? "Maybe to the jam making business…" she added sharply.

Then she had a thought… did she know that voice? "Wait…" she shook her head. Couldn't be. "Hugh?"

He lowered his hood and revealed a face she hadn't thought of in years. The first man to truly break her heart. Hugh Higgly-Hughes of the Hughes family. All dark eyes and a smile that could blind the sun.

"Hello, Pansy," he grinned at her and she never realized before just how smarmy he really was.

"You're part of the Brotherhood?!" she shouted, unbelieving. "What a joke! You can't truly feel threatened by me! You dumped me! All I do is paint glass and make jam."

"Threatened?" Hugh laughed, leaning over as he did so. "Not at all! Can you even summon a shield? Conjure water? You're trembling, you're so afraid, darling."

He was right, she was trembling. But it wasn't in fear. Pansy was pissed off. Hugh stepped right up in front of her, placing his hand right on her chest as if he had the right to do so.

"Stella?"

"Who is that?" Hugh asked, leaning in lewdly. Pansy's silk pajamas were definitely not covering enough to be appropriate and her top had been halfway unbuttoned when he decided to show his ugly face.

_I'm here, honey, and I'm very close to hatin' this man._

"He's a real prick," Pansy said, using Neville's word. "When did you join the Brotherhood, Hugh? Before you tried to force me to suck your tiny cock or after you dumped me because my standards are too high?"

"Ooo," he smirked. "Listen to that new found attitude, I like it." He booped her gently on the nose. "And it was after, I got curious one night. Wanted to see what the big deal was. Now there's a bounty on your head and I'm bored so…"

He shrugged and his wand came up. But Stella had long since taken over. She was a Muggle when she was alive, and didn't know how to do magic when she brought Pansy's wand up.

Hugh expected a magical attack, casting a soundless shield to reflect magic. Instead, Stella jammed Pansy's Willow wand right into his left eye socket.

"New found attitude?" Stella smirked. "Honey, she found a lot more than that."

Then her knee came up and rammed into the special place between his legs before she jumped away and started running for the door.

_Wait! Check Neville!_

"Forget the stud, honey, just for now," Stella said as she left the bedroom and ran for the kitchen. "These guys are after you, not him."

_What about Gus?_

"Gus can take care of himself, and so can Neville for that matter. That Higgly-Hugh just got the jump on you, and I'm gonna find out why…" Stella came to a halt by the kitchen Island, looking for Gerry.

Stella pursed her lips as she made for the front. "Where's the tall one? Gerry? The one that's in love with you?"

_That one that's WHAT?_

"Don't act so surprised, I've seen the way he looks at you," Stella moved with far more grace than Pansy would ever possess, checking around corners and following the wall until she got the front door. Where Gerry was moaning, still mostly passed out.

"Hey!" Stella leaned down and slapped the man. "Guard! How many of them are there?"

"Pansy…" he moaned, clutching his head.

"Try again, honey," Stella straddled him.

_IS THAT NECESSARY?_

"Wake up, wake up," she purred in that special way of hers.

"Pansy!" Gerry shouted, sitting up and grabbing onto Pansy's hips. His eyes went right to her exposed chest, looking gobsmacked and unsure for the first time since Pansy met the stoic guard.

"Oh, men never listen, do they?" Stella hopped up, running her fingers through Gerry's blonde hair affectionately. "How many more are there? Tell me!"

_Stella!_

"Behind you!" Gerry shouted, pulling her flush against his chest as they laid flat. Then he rolled them over towards the front door, jumping up on his feet with the same momentum. Stella followed suit, not afraid one bit to jump into the fight.

There was a bang that made both Stella and Pansy freeze, pain like nothing she knew radiating from the back of her head… then everything went black.


	36. Chapter 36

"I think I've made a terrible mistake..." - _Pansy, age 18, to Daphne Greengrass as a battle raged above them._

Pansy woke up slowly, thoughts and mouth both fuzzy. She reached up and grabbed at the back of her head, finding it wet and sticky with blood. Last thing she remembered was… ugh… fuzz.

Moldy, smelly, fuzz.

"Stel?"

Nothing.

She rolled up on her knees and a wave of nausea kept her there. And also… the chains around her ankles certainly didn't help. Saliva filled her mouth but she didn't vomit, breathing steadily to get past it. "Stella?" she tried again. "Where are you?"

Pansy didn't hear any purring, no laughing, no Southern Accent. Just her own thoughts and she never once thought she would miss that annoying, meddling, damn horny ghost.

She looked up and realized she was in an honest to goddess dungeon and a few feet to her left were her guards. Gerry was slumped over but Wayne waved sadly at her, the chain around his wrist dragging against the stone floor they sat on.

"I'm here, ma'am."

"Wayne!" she crawled over to the base of his feet, seeing the large gash across his dark forehead. "Your family?!"

"With Mattie," he winced and Pansy realized his lip was split too. They didn't use magic to subdue her guard? They had to make it physical, didn't they? "I was in the kitchen and Jules was with the babe when they came. I held them off while Matt got Elise and Jules to safety. Woke up here, they were dragging you two in. Uhm… boss…"

His eyes went down and back up again, his cheeks turning darker and Pansy realized her shirt was still mostly open. Quickly she did up the buttons. "This is all my fault," she muttered, the guilt spewing up in ugly fashion, making her eyes water. "And don't try to tell me otherwise, Wayne, I've made up my mind."

"Well, I know better than to argue with ya," he smiled pleasantly, as if they weren't all chained up in a dirty, dark dungeon.

Carefully, Pansy climbed over his legs, getting even closer. She didn't have the strength to tear off a piece of fabric from her pajamas, as they were made of silk. But Wayne had already seen most of her goodies, so she brought the edge of her shirt up and gently dabbed it against his bleeding forehead.

He kept perfectly still, eyes dead center on her face.

"If anything happens to your family..." she held back tears, but only just barely. She would _never_ forgive herself and that was a fact.

"I was expecting a magical attack, I let my guard down. I can only hope the girls are okay."

Not expecting a magical attack… It was exactly how Stella surprised Hugh.

"They will be, as soon as we get you home," she told him.

"Never understood that about you, boss," he leaned back against the wall, letting her tend to his wounds. "You quake in your boots if you get a piece of mail, but if anyone threatens or mistreats us suddenly you grow a spine bigger than a bull."

When she was younger, after her father died and she had to make it on her own, being scared just seemed normal. Especially as the Brotherhood seemed to grow more and more threatening. But now…

Maybe Neville was right. Maybe she grew complacent when her guards were around, used to being afraid and needing them. That reminded her.

She looked around for her almost lover. "Did you see Neville? Do they have him?"

Wayne shook his head, realized it hurt too much to do that, and said, "No ma'am. I saw their robes. It's the Brotherhood."

Pansy did what she could for the gash on Wayne's forehead, but she only had so much pajama. Instead she crawled over the dirty floor to where Gerry sat, slumped over against the wall. Blood caked down his neck and all over his hair. His wound matched her own.

"Were you with him?" Wayne asked as she looked around for something to stop the bleeding. Unlike her, Gerry's wound still oozed. She worried about the amount of blood.

"Gerry was at the front door," she answered, pulling off the man's jacket as gently as she could. She folded it in half and straightened Gerry's neck before pressing the soft wool to the back of his head.

"I meant Mr. Longbottom."

"Oh—yes," she admitted in a small voice, her guilt returning tenfold. Maybe if she and Neville hadn't been so involved with each other, they might've noticed her house was under attack and her guards were in trouble. She should have _known_ something was wrong. Gerry never said anything when Neville showed up through the Floo. He would have at least knocked on her door to ensure she was fine.

"And he isn't here. He's either in a different room, or they left him behind," Wayne rubbed his chin, thinking. "Or killed him."

…

She'd been holding back tears since she woke up, but now they came forward forcefully. A low whine came from her throat as she cried, panic shaking her to the core. Is that why Stella's honeyed voice was missing from her mind? Because Neville died? And therefore Gus…? Did they finally break the curse?

"Stella?" she shouted. "Oh please, Stella, be there, please!"

Again nothing.

But beside her Gerry stirred, a painful sounding groan coming from his throat. "Be careful," she warned, cheeks wet with hot tears. "You're still bleeding."

"I'll be fine, boss," he coughed, finally blinking open his eyes. "I was more worried about you… Hugh hit you on the head with one of your skillets."

"Hugh?" Wayne frowned. "If he's working for them, that makes sense how they managed to get into your home, Ms. Pansy. He knew the layout."

"When I get out of here, I'm strangling his scrawny neck with my bare hands," Gerry growled.

"Everyone be quiet," Pansy yelled.

Her guards went silent, but she thought it was more to do with the surprise that she never once yelled at them in such a way. But deep inside her mind, she heard the tiniest of voices, quieter than ever, and so sad, it made Pansy cry even harder.

_Gus… he's dying…_

Oh no. Oh no. Pansy quickly wiped her face as the dungeon door opened. And three hooded figures walked in.


	37. Chapter 37

"Boy, forget that damn wack job you call Granny and listen to me. Go see the world. I mean all of it. Eat all the local food—try their teas and their alcohols. Try their desserts and their religions. Talk to the merchants and the people you meet on the street. Visit the museums and churches and see the natural sights. Fall in love over and over again with everything and everyone. Longbottom Keep is yours and it'll be there when you get back, I can promise you that. And so will your damn Grandmother, that woman is immortal—God doesn't want her so we're stuck with her." - _Uncle Algie, after one too many spiked eggnogs at Christmas dinner._

Whispers surrounded him. Multiple men, though they sounded quite far away. Speaking of matters Neville knew he should pay attention too, but Gus was much closer. And therefore louder. _The cabin is... the loot... pay attention, chump... Stella and Pansy need us. It's time to wake up. We are in_ danger.

Though somehow he sounded quieter than ever. Fading in and out like a bad radio signal.

Did that make sense? No. Not at all. "C'mon Janus Thickey. I'm coming for you..."

_Do me a favor, chump, don't wait like I did. Marry your girl as soon as possible._

"Wait?" he asked, voice cracking.

He felt movement around him but his eyes refused to open.

_Stella and I never got the chance to cement our marriage. We were cursed into the bracelets right after our ceremony. The only time I ever felt fear, because I knew I couldn't stop it. I couldn't rescue her…_

For the first time, Gus didn't sound condescending in the least. He sounded regretful.

 _It can end in the blink of an eye, you only ever have_ now. _Don't waste it._

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, finally opening his eyes. Now that he knew Gus and Stella hadn't purposefully tethered their souls to the bracelets in a jacked up attempt to stay together, that they were cursed… it made Neville rethink everything. It made him feel a slight amount of guilt for being the one that stood in the way of Gus and Stella reuniting.

Three hooded figures stood around him, casting healing charms and bandages. Somehow he managed to get himself knocked out and cut up pretty seriously. The sharp ache said the wounds were caused by glass and he worried he inadvertently destroyed Pansy's masterpiece.

And cut open a carotid. That's just what the situation needed. Him, bleeding out to death. At least he was alive for now, and his head was clearing slightly. But that stained glass behind her bed might be the most magnificent thing he'd ever laid his eyes on—and he'd seen some pretty amazing sights on his travels.

It was something he could not replace for her.

"I'm sorry," he said again, attempting to sit up. For Gus and for the window.

"For your betrayal, Mr. Longbottom?" a voice asked.

He looked up and met the dark eyes of an unfamiliar man. "Betrayal?"

"To our Great and One Savior, Harry Potter."

"Harry is my friend, I would never betray him," Neville pretended to rub his head as if in pain. To buy some time. He didn't have to try very hard. And he definitely wasn't going to comment on that 'Great and One Savior' bit either. Harry would die of embarrassment of he ever heard such a thing.

"Yet we found you in the clutches of his sworn enemy, Pansy Parkinson."

The sound of Pansy's name cut through some of the fog. The man was completely serious. After his words, the three of them held up a finger and made the sign of the cross in front of their chests. Something his Uncle Algie did all the time. Mostly when his Gran was around.

That they did such a thing at the mere mention of Pansy made him want to pound their faces in, but he was mostly naked, mostly injured, and totally without a wand. And not sure if he should be taking this seriously...

Sharp aches all over his arms and torso made it difficult to move. But also, if he said or did the wrong thing, he was certain these guys would lock him away.

Or possibly worse. Fanaticism could get scary quick. If he was lucky they would kill him. But they might Imperius him into a cult he'd rather set on fire much like he did to the Mallards that once decorated his formal living room.

And yet, he kind of wanted to laugh. Was Pansy so blasphemous they needed to do the sign of the cross? The jam might tempt him into sin... but honestly. This couldn't be real.

He faked a groan. "I can't remember much of the last few weeks," he coughed, hoping it hid the lie in his voice. "You said you found me with… Pansy Parkinson? That's crazy…"

"You don't remember?" the closest psycho asked, lowering his hood. A young man Neville didn't recognize. Completely average like Ted Heathers had been. Did this guy have some pill hidden away, ready to die in the name of his cause? He reached into the deep pockets of his robe and pulled out a small, clear potion bottle. Quickly, he popped the cork and forced the potion into Neville's mouth.

Coughing _for real_ now, the potion tasted of oats and something metallic, the sensation weird as hell. Instantly, Gus totally disappeared from his mind as well as the pounding headache Neville had been experiencing. Swallowing several times to clear his throat, Neville pushed the cultist away.

"What the hell was that?"

"An Effulgence Potion, it will clear the mind and help you retain clarity for several hours."

Clear the mind? Is that why he couldn't hear Gus all the sudden?

"Do you remember now?" the cultist asked, returning to the topic of Pansy.

"I hadn't seen her since school…" he faked a cough again, pounding on his chest and deciding on truth. "I was home when she showed up at my door with her friends. Where am I?"

"The Spirited's home. The Great and Wise Arkin Josephson-Bridger, our leader into the new age. He welcomes all believers and those who choose to dedicate their lives to the service and teachings of our Great and One Savior, Harry Potter."

"Great and One Savior," Neville repeated, unsure of how to respond. Just when he thought it couldn't get any fucking weirder. "That's Harry alright."

"That you speak so informally of him…" the cultist shook his head, seeming disapproving. Oh right. They saw Harry as a deity. They didn't know that Harry was just like any of them. Human. A wizard. Farted in his sleep and sometimes laughed so hard he snorted. Not exactly a divine entity.

"Harry and I are buddies," Neville reminded them. He knew immediately how important it was to inform them and anyone else in this bloody cult of that little fact. "I've known him since I was 11. We lived in the same dormitory at school and have been friends, _really good friends_ ever since."

The three cultists went still, staring at him in awe from beneath their overly large, red hoods. Then, as if on cue, they all dropped to their knees, raising their hands into the air as if in worship.

Neville pretended to cough again—otherwise he would have burst out laughing.

"We apologize for our lack of judgment, great Neville Longbottom. We knew of your friendship with our Great and One Savior, Harry Potter, and still assumed you had succumbed to darkness when we found you with the evil temptress, Pansy Parkinson."

The worst part, no really, the absolute _worst part_ was that they were completely serious. It took everything to keep from laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it. But then, looking down to his torn jeans and shirt and feeling the faint ache from the cuts that had been only just healed, he remembered that these wackos were dead set on killing Pansy.

That sobered him right up.

"Don't make that mistake again," Neville told them firmly, standing up. "Now. I assume you've captured Parkinson?"

"We did, your greatness."

Greatness? Yuck. Double yuck.

"I need to interrogate her and try to recover my lost memories."

"Of course," they rose up together. The creep factor ramping up with every passing moment. "She obviously had you under the Imperius Curse."

"Yes, yes that must be it," Neville nodded regally. "I require fresh clothes and water before I begin."

"Right this way, your Greatness." The middle cultist presented him with a fresh set of robes.

Red.

Overly large.

Triple yuck.

And that was the day Neville joined a freakin' Cult.


	38. Chapter 38

"I quit. I quit! I can't stand you, Parkinson! You and that damn blubbering!" - _Mattie to Pansy about a million times over the years._

Hannah burst into Susan's room, crying her eyeballs out. "Why am I the biggest idiot alive, Susie?!"

The redheaded witch bolted right up, wand in hand, shoving her date to the side. Poor Terry Boot. Susan shoved him so hard he tumbled right off the bed and face first into the vanity.

"Gosh, Banana! You scared me!" Susie yelled, still in battle stance.

"Nev is totally dating Pansy Parkinson! He got her a matching bracelet. To the one I _bought him_!" Hannah slumped onto the bed, brought Susan's frilly sham to her face, and screamed into the pillow with every ounce of frustration and energy she had. Just when she thought she was ready to be friends, the fates decided they weren't done playing with her.

"WORSE," Hannah shouted, somehow not out of breath yet. "I walk in to see her kissing his cheek!"

"Not the cheek…?" Terry said, rubbing the hurt in his head.

"Shut up Terry!" Both Hannah and Susan shouted at once.

"Also, sorry babe," Susan added but then she turned towards Hannah. She said slowly, "Banana, he didn't get her that bracelet."

The betrayal.

The complete and total betrayal by everyone who she ever loved before.

"You _knew?_ " Hannah asked, feeling like she was about to cry again. The pillow fell to the side, forgotten as Hannah stood up. She accepted that Susan would remain friends with Neville. It was a main factor in her decision to try her best to be friends with him as well. But she just assumed Susan would be her friend... first? She guessed? Not that she would lose her friendship with Susan to Neville. That never occurred to her!

The world was so cruel!

"I did," Susan winced. "He asked me not to tell you, he wanted to tell you himself when the time was right."

"That he's moved on with bloody Pansy Parkinson!?" she shrieked so loud Terry covered his ears.

"No, Hannah!" Susan shouted, standing up on the bed. "I see you're upset but shut up a second and listen to me!"

"I…"

"SHUSH!" Susan made a 'zip it!' sign with her hand.

"But…"

"SHHH"

"..."

Hannah sat on the edge of the bed feeling every bit like she just got detention for something completely _not_ her fault.

Susan hopped down and sat next to her, taking her hands gently. "Hannah, the bracelet that you gave to Neville is cursed. It has a match, one that Pansy Parkinson had. Once both bracelets were on Neville and Pansy's wrist, they were possessed by two spirits who died in the 50's. And who are also married and very much in love. Apparently… all they want is to get it _on_."

"Get it… oh. Oh. I see." Actually no. She didn't see at all. "Wait."

WAIT.

"I cursed my ex-boyfriend?!" Hannah shouted.

"Yep," Susan winced again. "Which is why he didn't want to tell you. One of many reasons really. He knows it wasn't on purpose and it's giving him seriously confusing feelings for Pansy when he _just_ broke up with you. Which, by the way, he assures me had nothing to do with the bracelets."

Hannah sat in stunned silence, trying to process. Susan wouldn't lie to her, and it suddenly made sense why Neville wanted to know exactly the place she got the bracelet from.

"Um… should I go?" Terry asked dumbly, interrupting the quiet.

"Damn it, Terry, this is serious!" Hannah shouted, but her frustration was her own and not Terry's fault. "I should go apologize, I made a big scene, Susie."

She hadn't a clue what was going on and worse, she made Neville think he couldn't talk to her about it!

"Okay," her friend nodded. "Would you like me to go with you?"

"Yes, please, I need someone in my corner for when I inevitably go nuts."

"No problem, I wasn't doing anything important anyways."

They both left Terry sitting there, rubbing his head, and looking dumbfounded.

.

Mattie took Wayne's family to her Granny Bernadine's, the woman who raised Mattie and who, at the ripe age of 98, could kick any cultist's ass with a mere look, let alone her wand.

"You'll be safe here," she assured Julie, who seemed quite shaken by Wayne's disappearance. "I'm going to go find Wayne, we're going to go rescue Pansy, and then I'm going to find every last one of these fuckheads and bash their skull in with my fists."

"You need a smoke, Mattie," she said, patting her shoulder encouragingly.

"She better not be smoking any of those cancer sticks!" Granny called from her recliner, where she was smoking her own damn cigarette like the giant hypocrite she was. "Try gum."

The television was on, blasting at full strength even though it was 3 in the morning.

"I'm out of that too, damn it!" Mattie shouted rudely, and immediately felt bad for when baby Elise made a soft, short crying sound.

She took a deep breath, feeling extra, super duper cranky from her head to her toes. "Please Jules, I promise I will find Wayne. Stay here, stay safe, so that when I do find him, we don't have to worry about you and the baby. It's not rocket science."

"I don't know what either of those things are," Julie said, cradling the babe gentle. "But I know right now, I just want to grab my wand and go chase them down."

"And that's what we all love about you, Jules. But—"

"Elise," she rocked the baby, who was now sound asleep and curled up happily. "I understand. Pansy is the one who made this blanket for her, won't you please make sure she's alright too?"

"I will. _Bernie_ , behave, I'll be back later!" she shouted as she left through the back door.

Mattie withdrew her wand and found the piece of rainbow glass. Its match she'd given to Pansy weeks and weeks ago. The glass was set to a vivid orange color. Mattie cycled through to red, to let Pansy know she was coming for her. She Apparated to Pansy's house on the spot, afraid of what she would find and hoping to that dumb goddess Pansy prayed to there would be a few lingering cultists around she could beat the shit out of.

The moment she appeared in Pansy's back garden, she crouched down and brought the front of her shirt up to cover her face. The entire house was billowing with fire, the air filled with ash and smoke. "Mother fucking cultists, don't you have _anything_ better to do?"

Crawling by the tree line, Mattie made her way around the yard, giving a good distance from the house. Preparing to blast it with water. First she needed to make sure no one was waiting in the dark, no one who would stop her.

To her utter disappointment, she didn't see any robe wearing freaks. So Mattie stood up and turned her wand on the house, water blasting outwards.

It seemed as if the fire got Pansy's lemon trees. It took her ages to put out the fire by herself, as the fire had clearly been raging for some time. There was no saving the house, and she dreaded finding a body she wouldn't be able to recognize.

As it died down the only thing that remained standing in the blackened pile of rumple and ash was Pansy's windows.

The ones she spent a fortune on. Apparently they really were indestructible.

After ensuring the fire was completely out, Mattie wiped her sweaty forehead and sneered. Gerry was the toughest son of a bitch she knew. A literal wall most days. He could take stunners and physical hits without a flinch. What the hell happened that he and Pansy both got captured and/or possibly roasted to death? Of course it happened when she wasn't on shift.

She made a fist around her wand and punched it into her opposite hand. If those cultist assholes got Wayne, it was safe to assume they got Pansy and Gerry too. Or...

" _Ugghhhhhhhh_!" she shouted at the night sky. She was going to have to go see that damn Neville Longbottom! After putting out a damn fire.

Apparating immediately, Mattie appeared at Longbottom Keep where she made a mad dash for the back door. The kitchen looked exactly as it did when she and Pansy left around dinner time several hours ago.

The dinner dishes hadn't been put up.

And sadly, no Pansy or Neville in sight. Instead, she met up with the ex-girlfriend who had been snooping around earlier. Along with a red-head she didn't recognize.

"What are you doing here?" Hannah shouted. "Why do you look like you've been set on fire?!"

Mattie turned and stared her down, causing Blondie to back up several times. "Looking for your idiot ex, seen him anywhere? Or Pansy for that matter?"

"We're here to talk to Neville," she glared meanly. "And no, we haven't seen Pansy anywhere."

"Damn it," Mattie pushed by them and headed for the stairs up. "Pansy! Are you here? Pansy!"

The two girls followed quickly. "Hey! What's happening, why are you shouting?"

"Longbottom! Answer me damnit!" Mattie didn't have time to catch up Blondie and Red. She searched every room, banging open doors, and taking the stairs two at a time.

"Oh my god she's so fast," Red panted as they tried to follow. "Why is she so fast?!"

"Who are you anyways?" Blondie asked, struggling to keep up.

"I'm Pansy's bodyguard and I'm pretty sure that damn Brotherhood of the Chosen kidnapped Pansy. Maybe even loverboy too."

"Bodyguard?"

"Loverboy?"

Mattie made it to the top floor and burst into the altar room, hoping beyond hope that she would find Pansy. But there was nothing in the room but a million pots of flowers and the streaming moonlight through the windows.

"Oh. Oh. Oh. What… the… hell…" Blondie skidded to a stop, just bumping into Matt from behind. "This is new…"

"Oh-" Red skidding in behind her. "What is this? An… oh it's an altar room."

"Seriously you two have said the word 'oh' about 100 times in the last 20 seconds, stop," Mattie snapped.

"Oh." They said together. "Sorry!"

"He built it for Pansy in an ill attempt to win her heart," Mattie informed them in a clipped voice, toe tapping rapidly. Fuck, she needed a piece of gum. "Of course it worked, because she's a dumb bitch who falls for sentimental crap like that!"

"To win her heart?" Blondie looked about ready to cry.

But Red bumped her elbow. "Banana it's okay, remember? Better off as friends?"

"I don't have time for your rom-com issues," she snapped at them.

Blondie swallowed back her tears and nodded. "Who… who are the Brotherhood?"

"Jesus Christ, do either of you have a cigarette or a piece of gum? Or a gun so I can shoot myself in the head?"

"What's a gun?" - "I have both."

"Wait what!" Blondie turned to Red. "You're smoking, Susie?!"

Red reached into her back pocket and pulled out a full pack of Marlboros. "My school course is really tough, Banana! Don't judge me."

Mattie reached forward and grabbed the nearest cig, "Thank the fucking gods."

"Do you always swear like that?" Blondie asked, hands on hips.

"Fuck yes," Mattie snapped, putting the butt of the cig between her teeth and bringing her wand up to light the tip. The second stretched out timelessly, nicotine flooding her system and making everything in the world way, way, way better than it ever was before.

"Alright," she breathed out, feeling relaxed for the first time in months. Time to beat some ass. "We gotta find where they're holed up, so I can burn that fucking place to the ground."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: DO NOT SMOKE CIGARETTES, THEY ARE SUPER BAD FOR YOU AND ANYONE ELSE AROUND. JUST BECAUSE I WROTE IT INTO MY STORY DOESN'T MEAN I CONDONE IT. Thx :)


	39. Chapter 39

"Sometimes fighting is the answer... but sometimes confidence is all you need." - _Harry to Neville, ages 15._

Pansy tried to keep cool as two hooded men wearing mulberry colored robes held her by the elbows, following a third figure down a dark hallway. The entire time Stella cried for Gus. The heartbreaking sobs were nearly impossible to ignore, but Pansy didn't have time to comfort Stella. Because she was trying not to cry about Neville.

Hermione and Susan both said it. There was one way to break the curse.

Death.

When Hugh stunned him back in her bedroom, he went flying high in the air. He could've landed badly. Maybe he broke his neck. She remembered glass breaking but she wasn't sure what it could've been. Was he cut? Did he bleed out slowly?

Her guards were trapped now and she was being held like a prisoner… but all she could think about was Neville.

Attempting to distract herself, Pansy looked up at the walls and focused on what covered them. All along the hallway were pictures of Harry. It seemed like a timeline of his life.

Baby pictures turned into pictures of him at school. Newspaper articles and Quidditch close ups. Several from the war and final battle. Then his career afterwards. It was strange after spending a little time with Harry recently to see such a wall put up in his honor.

Because he would hands-down hate it with a vicious fury. That man was humble to a fault. He didn't want recognition for doing the right thing. And… he would hate that they had captured her.

She hoped that Harry wasn't also hurt somehow.

The hooded men led her past the timeline hallway and into a much larger common room. She started counting mulberry robes. The number getting higher and higher with little time. She couldn't see any faces beneath their hoods but they all turned to give her shadowy looks, a deathly silence saturating the room until she could practically feel it on her skin.

She just had to be wearing skimpy silk pajamas when she got captured, didn't she? They weren't lingerie or anything. But the shorts had way less length than anything else she would wear out of the house and her lack of bra made her feel vulnerable in a way she never experienced before.

And all while Stella continued to cry in her mind.

"Stel," she mumbled as quietly as she could. How to comfort a dead woman on the … second death of her husband?

_I can't feel him anymore… he's gone… he's just gone!_

"Could be asleep," Pansy kept her mouth as closed as she could, so afraid of the men surrounding her.

_No! I could feel him just fine before, whenever Neville went to bed for the evenin. I could tell they were asleep. This is different, Pansy. He's gone. Gus is really gone._

If Gus was gone… that meant Neville probably was too. A tear poked out from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek. They'd only been together for what felt like a short time, but she really thought they might have some chemistry together—horny ghosts aside. It felt as if they had so much more to do together. To be.

She remembered the night outside his bedroom door, him yelling at Gus in her defense. That was the night she figured out how easy it was to talk to him. And now she realized that's what she wanted more than anything. Just to talk to him. He would know what to do and what to say without a doubt.

"I need you, Stel," she admitted, biting down on her lip. This wasn't something she could handle on her own.

"Silence, witch," the cultist on her left demanded in a whiny tone. "You will hold your tongue as you speak to our most honored guest."

Sniffling in her head. _Most honored guest?_ Sniff sniff. _What did they do? Invite the Devil over for supper?_

"Supper?" Pansy asked, trembling. It wasn't just in fear. Ever since Hugh showed his slimy face, she'd been feeling enraged. How did they find her address? How did they get past her wards? How did they know her guards?

Bloody Hugh Higgly-Hughes of that damn Hughes Family that's how! All these years and the answer was finally there. Just in time for her to be kidnapped and probably sacrificed at the altar.

"I said be _silent witch_ ," the cultist repeated, jerking her elbow rudely.

 _Dinner_ , Stella sniffed again. _And I've decided I'm not done with this world until I've taken out every single one of these impetuous, despicable men with my bare hands. If they hurt Gus... they are in for one hell of a beatin'! And honey, when I'm done, you better marry that stud and live a life worth living! You hear me?_

"I hear you, Stel, I heard you," Pansy couldn't help but say out loud.

A hand came out to slap across her cheek with such quickness, if she couldn't feel the sting on her skin she would have missed it.

"I told you to be quiet! Our most honored guest will deal with your insolence! Prepare to face him!" he warned dramatically, retaking her elbow not-so-gently. His gloves fingers dug in deep which just contributed to the emotional storm she felt. And why did it feel as if she were being reprimanded by a teenager playing at being a man?

Her fear and anger mixed with the grief of not knowing Gus and Neville's fate. The slap tipped her over and she felt Stella come forward, taking control of her body while pushing Pansy into the background.

It was the first time losing control gave her relief instead of terror. This was a situation she couldn't handle. She didn't want to handle it. She wanted to be in bed with Neville, making him smile.

The cultist in front of her opened a set of double doors as Stella exerted her control. She wiggled her nose and stretched her shoulders. Stood up taller and took a deep breath.

Then she blinked open forest deep green eyes and spotted up ahead an extravagant dais, a raised golden throne draped on both sides with Gryffindor red silk fabric... where another hooded figure sat ominously.

The two cultists on either side pushed her down to her knees in front of the dais before backing up. As if the whole situation wasn't demeaning enough. Huffing, Stella pushed herself up before putting her hands on her hips.

"Well well well, this must be the most honored guest everyone seems to be enamored with!"

A chorus of gasps filled the room, a room completely surrounded by a circle of hooded cultists. They all began yelling at once.

"Witch!"

"She must be put to death!"

"Kill her!"

The figure upon the dais stood up, holding out a hand. "Silence!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

A voice Stella and Pansy recognized immediately.

Hand over heart, Stella drew in a big breath. "My word... Can't be…"

_Is that..._

Stella pointed. "You…"

 _I can't believe it_!

The figure dropped his hood to reveal a familiar face.

"You're cruisin' for a bruisin', Neville Longbottom!" Stella shouted. "I cannot believe I've spent the last few weeks tryna convince Pansy to fall in love with the likes of you, you no-good wet rag!"

Her accent was ten times stronger out loud but Pansy felt stunned to the bone. First that blast from the past, Hugh, shows up and kidnaps her and now Neville was revealed to be part of the cult she'd been trying to hide from since she was 18?!

What kind of sick joke was he trying to play on her? Convince her to come live with him, gain her trust, seduce her, and then betray her? Ugh! It didn't make any sense! But as Stella continued to shout meanly at Neville, the cultists around the room grew restless and Pansy spotted a fight about to erupt.

_Uh… Stella…_

"Everyone be silent!" Neville shouted again, jumping from the dais and stopping before Stella. He grabbed her shoulders and wiggled her slightly. "I must interrogate her and find out how long she's had me under the Imperius Curse! You witch!"

_Imperius! He can't be serious!_

"Oh I'm gonna curse you—" Stella threatened between her teeth. "And I don't needa wand to do it!"

"Damnit Stella, shut the fuck up," Neville whispered between clenched teeth before he raised his voice. "You cannot! I am an Honored Guest here at The Brotherhood of the Chosen, and I've now pledged my life to the service of our Great and One Savior! Harry Potter!"

… Oh. _Stella, he's playing along with them!_

"And now," he forced her down, obviously not using all his strength. Stella paused, unsure, before she dropped. Pretending Neville had pushed her. "I will _demonstrate_ my great magic, taught to me by none other than Harry Potter himself!"

He winked at her quite obviously. Then Neville drew his wand from a hidden pocket of his robes, spreading his arms out over his head in dramatic fashion. His emphasis on the word demonstrate had Pansy wondering.

_Stella, play along with him. I'm serious._

"Are you sure about this, sugar?" Stella muttered under her breath.

_Trust me… he's pretending to be one of them! I bet these guys are the reason you can't sense Gus any longer. See? He's still wearing the bracelet!_

Neville twirled his wand around, summoning green sparks before he brought it down towards her. A wordless spell and a spring green colored lasso shot from his wand, encircling her. It kind of tickled but the fury in which it circled her body made them dizzy to watch.

_Stella, you offered me some advice? Take mine. Neville survived a war when he was only 17. He's wicked smart. I shouldn't have doubted him earlier! He had plenty of opportunity over the last few weeks to hurt or kill us and he didn't. Play along!_

"Oh, fine," Stella pretended to shake, falling over on the floor. "Ooowww! You're _h_ -urting meh!"

Her attempt at a British accent left a _lot_ to be desired.

_So this is what that feels like._

"Oww, no! St-aap. Pl-ase." Stella continued to shout in fake pain.

_That accent is literally hurting me, Stel._

"Oh bloo-day _hail_!" She continued to convulse for a few more seconds before slumping over, closing her eyes.

Everyone else in the room burst into thunderous applause.

"Thank you, thank you," Neville told them humbly. "Take her to my private room. I will question her when she wakes up and get all and any information from her. Any plot to harm our Great and One Savior will be revealed!"

The applause increased tenfold.

 _Oh, give me a break,_ Stella and Pansy thought together.


	40. Chapter 40

"I did break up with Hannah, that doesn't mean I think any less of her skill as a witch or her fierceness as a person. She's sweeter than a chocolate pie, and as vicious as a hungry dragon. I'll always admire her." - _Neville to Pansy as they picked fruit together for jam._

Hannah, Susie, and the scariest witch they'd ever met arrived at Augusta and Erasmus's house in the wee early morning hours and immediately started assaulting the front door with their knocks.

"AUGGIE. WAKE UP! NEVILLE NEEDS HELP!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, pounding on the door so hard Mattie actually looked impressed. But Hannah was fueled by more than obligation to go and rescue Neville and Pansy. She had _guilt_. Because she bought that bracelet from a secondhand shop and slapped it on his wrist before thinking twice. And the thing was _cursed_. She CURSED her ex-boyfriend.

It would be easier to act on that sliver of pettiness she felt. Because Neville certainly never made anything for Hannah the way he built that altar room for Pansy. And if the two ended up together, she didn't know how she would really feel about it. But she knew she wanted to fix her mistake with the bracelet. And she knew she wanted to be Neville's friend.

That meant making sure he survived.

And she was Hufflepuff. Puffs were loyal to the end.

"AUGGIE!" she shrieked.

The lights came on one by one until a very disgruntled 1000 year old man answered the door wearing nothing but yellowed tightie whities, and unmatching socks.'s

"Ewwww!" - "What the fuck!" - "Erasmus! Cover yourself up!"

All three girls shoved a hand over their eyes, unable to bear the sight of the old man.

"It's the middle of the night, what are you three doing banging on my door at this hour!?" he shouted at them in his old man voice. "Get the hell off my property!"

"Where is Auggie?" Hannah asked, head turned away. "Neville's been captured!"

"Ha!" Erasmus laughed like he just heard the funniest joke, slapping his bare old-man knee. "That boy is the most useless creature to walk the earth. O'course he got captured!"

"Now listen here," Hannah dashed forward and pushed him right in his saggy chest. "I've just about had it with you Erasmus! You have hated Nev from the moment you two met and been nothing but a ripe ass to him! I don't care one bit if you were to drop dead right this very moment, you tell me where Augusta is RIGHT NOW because Nev is in TROUBLE AND NEEDS OUR HELP."

Mattie's eyes went round and Susan's mouth dropped in surprise. And Erasmus… clutched at his chest, suddenly struggling for air.

"Fuck—heart attack!" Mattie darted forward, grabbing the man before he collapsed into the floor.

"Auggie! Auggie where are you?" Hannah shouted, dashing up the stairs. "Oh my god! Oh my god!"

"What on earth is happening?"

Hannah paused halfway up the staircase, looking to Augusta as she leaned over the railing. "He's having a heart attack!" she shouted, pointing to Eramus as he flailed on the floor, gasping for air.

"Not again," Neville's Gran rolled her eyes and swept down the stairs, her nightgown billowing behind her. "Hold on Erie."

"Again?" Hannah came to Matt's side and knelt down, summoning a towel to press to the man's forehead.

Augusta came back only a moment later with a sludge-green colored potion. She pulled the cork out with her teeth before kneeling down and tipping the potion into Erasmus's mouth.

It took a minute, but his breathing evened and he relaxed into the floor. "The danger has passed, for now," Augusta started. "But this is his third one in as many days. I must take him to St. Mungo's."

"No, Auggie," Hannah argued. "I'm sorry—I realize this might be my fault… but Neville is in danger. He needs help."

"I can't help him," she stood, not a hair out of place despite the late hour. "He told me about this Brotherhood business and there is nothing I can do to help. He made his choices."

"Who even is this person?" Matt said, pointing a thumb at Augusta. "I need to get to Pansy ASAP."

"This is Nev's Gran," Susan informed, tone rapidly becoming uncivil. "And she's just bitter she can't control how he lives."

"I'm not bitter, Ms. Bones. My grandson has made it very clear I'm not to interfere in his life."

"If they can't help, let's go then," Matt suggested, standing up. "Get the old man to the hospital."

"I will," Augusta withdrew her wand, levitating Erasmus up. "I can't help, but I did look into this organization. Arkin Josephson-Bridger is an old acquaintance of mine. The monthly meetings take place at his home, but he has another property most wouldn't know about."

"Where?" Matt demanded, then pointed to Hannah. "You're coming with me Blondie. You gave a man a heart attack, I need you on my side."


	41. Chapter 41

"One day, the world will test you, little witch. You must be prepared. Learn well. Stand your ground." - _Tav Parkinson to Pansy, age 11, before she got on the Hogwarts Express for the first time._

Bound and gagged, two cultists used their wands to tie her to a chair in an extravagant bedroom. Heavy brocade curtains in maroon and gold covered the windows, so she had no idea if it was day or night. Neville stood by the door, observing everything with a stern eye.

"Make sure the bindings are tight, we can't risk her escaping," he said.

Every time he spoke, the robed cultists went mad with energy and seemed plum happy to serve.

"Most honored guest," a third one said, coming to a deep bow before Neville. "Your magic is as awe-inspiring as you are. We are deeply honored to have you here. How shall we proceed in interrogating the traitor?"

"What is your name?" Neville asked, never unfolding his arms.

"Hart Westerland, sir," another deep bow. "A Chosencaller to the great Spirited."

"Chosencaller?"

"For if Harry Potter calls me to battle, I must respond swiftly and justly to the Chosen one," he informed, placing a hand over his heart as if talking about his true calling.

"Harry would be most pleased to hear that," Neville told him, sounding pleased, but secretly wishing he would wake up from this nightmare. When he was younger, he just assumed adults knew what they were doing, and that when bad things happened, it was because of bad people.

Now he realized it was because of bad people taking advantage of _idiots._

"Now, tell me what kind of wards protect the property? I need to know for security reasons."

"Of course," Hart bowed again. Then listed off about a million different wards. Including Anti-Apparation. "For the boys safety of course. They are our future, the soon to be leaders of this world. We must protect them. The Spirited will be here in the morning. He will expect us to have interrogated the traitor by then. She will be sacrificed at 8:14 in the morning."

_Did he just say_ sacrificed? _As in ME?_

Stella growled, jerking at her bindings. She had a lot to say about this whole execution bit, but they had stuffed a rag in her mouth before wrapping it shut with a bit of rope.

If anyone was going to tie her up, she'd prefer it be Gus. Pansy agreed.

"8:14. That's specific," Neville continued, fishing for information.

"The exact moment when the Dark Lord was finally vanquished, his soul reaped from the world! The ritual will mimic his departure and bring peace to this war-torn world!" Hart seemed overjoyed, shouting out his exclamation as if he practiced it several times a day.

"Sounds like a perfect time to finish off the last of his followers," Neville smiled creepily, finally looking in her direction.

Stella jerked her bindings as hard as she could, getting the chair to move a bare inch but inside Pansy was freaking out. That smile looked nothing like the Neville they knew and Stella was convinced the man was finally showing his true colors no matter how many times Pansy said otherwise.

"I'd like to be alone with her," Neville told the room. "She held me against my will for weeks. We have hours before The Spirited arrives. Plenty of time to get information out of her."

"Of course, most honored guest. We will give you an hour, then the real interrogation will begin."

"Excellent," Neville rubbed his hands together, pulling out his wand.

The three cultists bowed once more before leaving the room, and Neville turned the lock before casting a Privacy Charm on the door. Which meant they could hear outside the door if it was loud enough, but no one would hear inside the room until the door opened again.

He turned on his toe and shouted, _"WHAT THE FUCK!"_ before rushing over, his wand pointed right at her.

The rope around her hands and ankles disappeared into dust as did the one around her mouth. Hands free, Stella reached up and jerked the rag from her mouth, spitting excess saliva on the floor. Then she stood up and rushed to Neville, grabbing his robes with both hands and proving she wasn't to be messed with.

"Time to sing, darlin'," she said in a frightful tone. "You tell me right this instant where my husband is!"

"Stella, relax." He wrapped his arms around her. "They gave me an Effulgence Potion to clear my head. For Clarity. It has to be that, the moment I drank the potion he disappeared, but they said the effects would only last for a few hours."

"Don't tell me to relax, you better not be workin' with these psychopaths, Neville!"

"I'm not!" he shouted, wide-eyed. "Are you kidding? After everything we've been through… Pansy doesn't think that I'm part of this insane cult, does she? Does she?! Let me speak to her, now!"

_He's proving it right now, Stel! Why would he untie us if he was one of them?_

"She sure does," Stella said, getting in his face. And lying. "You, in your red robes, waving that damn wand around like a crazy fool. What else are we supposed to think? Is this part of your interrogation method? You think I haven't survived worse?"

_Stella!_

"I love you!" he shouted, shaking her a bit. It came out like a rushed breath, like it meant more than he was capable, like there was nothing in the whole world that could deny it. "I love Pansy."

_Whoa._

"Is that so?"

_I'm dizzy…_

"Gus told me not to wait. That… that it can all end in the blink of an eye, and he's _right_. He's right, I sat around wasting time with Hannah for years and hurt us both for it. I'm not wasting any more time, Pansy. So, if you think I'm part of this insane fucking cult, just kill me now and get the hell out of here, okay?"

_Stel, you let me talk to him right now. Stella! Stel!_

Still holding onto the front of Neville's robes, Stella pulled him down and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. "That's what I thought."

_Are you kidding me? Stel, did you set that up on purpose?! Now is not the time for your tricky shenanigans! We are being held hostage for cryin' out loud!_

"Oh darlin, you almost sounded like me there for a second," Stella purred. "Of course I set that up, I've been tryin' to get you two together for weeks and this damn Brotherhood of the Chosen interrupted what was sure to be a helluva night! Gus is always right, there's no time like the present time."

"Damn you, Stella, this is a serious situation!" Neville yelled at her. "Yet somehow I'm always on the verge of laughter."

"Are you sure you aren't enjoyin' it even a little bit, hon?" Stella raised an eyebrow. "'Wotch as I demo-trate my gret mag-ick'!"

_Seriously, Stel, you have got to stop trying to sound like a Brit._

Neville released his hold on them, stepping back before he facepalmed. Hard. "I literally cannot process how fucked up this situation is right now. I woke up, naked, covered in cuts, in the house of a damn cult trying to kill the woman I love who is possessed by a damn ghost who is messing with me right now! And… oh Pansy… I think I broke your stained glass…"

He slapped his own face again. "The one behind your bed."

…

_WHO CARES? TELL HIM TO STOP BROODING AND GET US THE HELL OUT OF HERE. MY GUARDS ARE LOCKED UP AND GERRY NEEDS MEDICAL ATTENTION. WAYNE'S FAMILY IS IN TROUBLE. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE MATTIE IS. AND THEY'RE TRYING TO KILL ME IN THE MORNING IN SOME KIND OF RITUAL SACRIFICE?! WHO THE HELL CARES ABOUT STAINED GLASS?!_

"Uh…" Stella bit her lip and blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with Pansy's screams. "She says, uh... no sweat, Daddy-o."


	42. Chapter 42

"Friendship means having each other's backs, even when you aren't feeling all that friendly." - _Ginny to Neville, the day they went to Diagon Alley to buy Dreamless Sleep Potion ingredients._

Mattie, Red, and Blondie appeared at the edge of another property. This house far more demure than the last. All three rushing up the walkway and banging on the door. Major Deja Vu.

"Harry!" Red called out. "Harry!"

Bang bang bang! "Let's go, Potter!" Mattie called out.

Lights came on all over the house and this time, the door was answered far quicker. Ginny and Harry both stood, in rumpled up in matching pajamas, hair completely mussed.

"Wha?"

Mattie and Ginny narrowed their eyes at each other, remembering their last encounter immediately.

This witch was definitely not one to be trifled with. "What are you doing here?" she asked, all traces of sleepiness gone.

"Neville and Pansy have been taken by the Brotherhood," Mattie told them, without looking away. She was pissed off enough to take on all of Longbottom's idiot friends in a fight—but she had a job to do. "I've had a smoke and we have an address, you in or out?"

Ginny nodded and Harry followed her lead, they said together in the same determined tone: "We're in."

"Then go get your shit together and let's go!" she urged.

"I thought you would be more pleasant after your smoke, Mattie," Hannah nudged her elbow. Things were getting way too familiar between the three of them.

"I'm not here to make friends, Blondie. And this is pleasant. What you're about to see when we get to this cult-cluster-fuck is the opposite of pleasant."

"Yes, DA back together again," Red pumped her fist in the air. Then she looked at Mattie "Plus one."

"DA?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Dumbledore's Army, a group we made during school to learn how to fight and cast defensive spells."

"Here," Ginny reappeared, dressed much the same as the other three, jeans, boots, and a jacket. "We've been working on these for situations exactly like this."

She handed out to everyone a small, polished smooth rock. Harry joined them not a second later, wand in hand and pushing his arms through his jacket. "Where's the address?"

Mattie told them. Then asked, "What exactly are these?"

Her rock was smooth to the touch and slightly cool.

"Put it in your ear. It connects with the others, within range we can communicate with each other. Try it out."

"Goodie," Mattie rolled her eyes. "Wizards are finally catching up to Muggles. Now we can be spies." Then she plugged the rock in her ear and turned it until it felt snug and secure. "Testing. One-fucking-two."

"That's amazing," Blondie said. "I could hear that in my ear."

"I'm also standing right next to you, aaa-aaa-amazing."

"The three of us should start a girl band," Red said, putting her own rock in.

…

"After tonight none of you ever speak to me again," Mattie told them, passing around the address. "Okay, I take lead."

"Uh? Wrong." Ginny held up a hand. "Harry takes lead, obviously."

"Obviously? Why is it obvious? Like, I get it, you're Harry Bleeding Potter, big whoop. Auror and all, but I know way more about these guys than any of you do. I know way more about Pansy than any of you do. And I am, by far, the most bossiest of any of you."

"No, she's right," Harry said, stopping Ginny before she spoke again. "She knows more about this situation than me. Let's not waste time."

"Good. Here's the plan, they know my face. They see me, they're going to know a fight is about to happen. But they see Harry and Ginny? That's our way in. The three of us can circle the property and search for alternative ways inside."

"Why don't we just go with Harry and Ginny?" Blondie asked, speaking of her and Susan.

"Because four is a lot, especially at this hour. It'll put them on guard right from the start, whereas Harry and Ginny are married, and they also worship him. Which I find completely disturbing by the way."

Mattie took the moment to glare at Harry. This was his fault. Damn cultists.

"Hey, I don't like it either. Trust me." He held his hands up in surrender. "Everyone got the address?"

A round of nods.

"Priority has to be safely retrieving Pansy—and Neville too I suppose," Mattie rolled her eyes. "If you see Gerry and Wayne, they're on our side."

"Gerry and Wayne?" Red and Blondie asked.

"Pansy's other guards- Wayne's Latin American, so he should stick out like a sore thumb. Gerry is tall, blonde, and looks like he can kill you with his pinky."

"Oh."

"Don't start that shit again. Anyone have any questions?"

"Yeah, what should our band name be?"


	43. Chapter 43

"How many times do I have to tell you? That man is in love with you and will do everything for you, mark my words, honey. You're in for one helluva ride." - _Stella to Pansy, the night he built the altar room._

Neville took off his robes and then his shirt. "They're going to come back soon. I doubt they'll give me a full hour."

"Are you propositionin' me, hon?" Stella crossed her arms, sitting in the chair with her leg cross at the knee.

"No," he huffed. Then he handed her his shirt. It was a plain gray button-up he wasn't wearing when they got captured. "You might be comfortable like that, but I know Pansy isn't."

Stella took in all his cuts and bruises before taking the garment. "You don't hear Gus at all do you?"

He shook his head. "I'm sure it's the potion, Stel. I'm positive. I drank it and it was like my head was clear for the first time since I put the bracelet on."

"I thought he died," she shuddered a sigh, tugging the shirt over her head. She rolled the hem up and tied it in the front. "Ain't no one stoppin' us from havin' our reunion, ya hear me?"

"I hear ya," Neville copied her tone. "What do you want? Weapon wise."

"Gimme a baseball bat. How do you wanna play it, honey, down n dirty or…"

He summoned the bat for her and handed it over. "What's down and dirty?"

"Like this," she swung up and bashed the back of his head in.

_Stella! What are you doing?_

"You go down, and then we play dirty," Stella stepped over Neville as he lay on the floor, rubbing the back of his head in a dizzy sort.

"Honest to Goddess, I cannot stand you and Gus anymore," he moaned.

_He's bleeding. He's our only help in this whole damn place and you just hit him in the back of the head? Did you forget about that whole ritual sacrifice bit?! Give me control back! Right now Stella! It's my body you crazy woman!_

"He'll be fine, honey," Stella said to Pansy as Neville continued to curse crazy, insane ghosts who acted irrationally. "A little bump on the head never hurt anyone. And now we can…"

The door unlocked. And slowly opened.

Stella rushed into the corner, holding the bat at ready. One, two, three cultists walked in—apparently they always went everywhere in 3's. She waited for the door to shut before she bashed in the third one's head in.

The first one rushed to Neville, who shot his wand out and Stunned him the moment he got close. Then it was 2v1. Groaning, Nev rolled up on his feet and grabbed the arms of the remaining cultist.

"Uhh—" he blubbered as Neville forced him into the chair Stella previously occupied.

"And that is the down n dirty." She marched up and grabbed his chin, pushing back the hood. "He's a child!"

"They're all young," Neville said, rubbing his head. "Like really young. 15 & 16 year olds. Pansy, did you notice more activity during the summer months? When school was out?"

_Uh… Oh. Well… yes actually. The Fire Beetle, the trinkets… The Feather… it all came over the summer. . ._

"That's a yes," Stella glared at the boy in the chair, dragging each word out.

_Are you telling me… that they stalked and harassed and assaulted me… as part of some Summer club?! They're… bored??_

"What are you... Pansy…" Stella stumbled back a step, losing focus. The bat dropped from her hand. "Wait! Pansy!"

"Why is she talking to herself?" the cultist asked, looking back and forth between them. Looking frightened.

"Be-cause," Pansy bit out, taking control of her own body. She shook off the random tingles sparking through her body, feeling jittery like she drank too much coffee. Then she stalked forward and grabbed the boy's ear, yanking him forward. "There's a damn GHOST in my head. Not only do I have to deal with you people trying to kill me all the time, I have to deal with a second person in my head. Taking control of my body, hitting the man I love in the back of the head, _RUINING MY LIFE!_ "

"Ow-ow-ow-ow!"

"What about this?!" Pansy ripped the top two buttons from Nev's shirt, revealing the scar across her chest. "Is this what you like? You like hurting women, little boy? How would your mother feel about that? Huh? ANSWER ME!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried. "I thought you were a bad guy! I thought… I thought we were doing what was right!"

_He's just a child, Pansy,_ Stella seemed to cough. _And what in the Devil's name did you do to me?_

"I am not a bad person," she told the kid, releasing his ear and pushing away in frustration. "All I do is MAKE JAM."

Strawberry. Raspberry. Blackberry. Blueberry. Apricot...

"Pansy," Neville grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back, turning her to face him. He fixed the buttons and situated her shirt. "Are you okay? Talk to me."

"I'm so angry," she said, visibly shaking. "It's like the Gobstones Club got together and decided they were going to destroy my life. It feels even worse because they don't know any better!"

"It's this 'Spirited' person... and that Hart guy," Neville said. "He took advantage of their youth."

Oh. Right. He didn't know.

"It's not just him… the one who came to the house… I know him, Neville." She continued to shake, enraged and terrified and uncertain. "I used to date him. Hugh Higgly-Hughes."

"What? One of the jerks who tried to pressure you into sex?" he asked, suddenly showing that inner fury Pansy had only seen once before. When they had their fight. She knew it because his frown made his face seem extra sharp. "WAIT. A HIGGLY-HUGHES?! I HATE THOSE PEOPLE."

She nodded, her entire face a frown. "He helped Draco get the original wards on my house. He knew how to break them down from the start. I just never thought he would join The Brotherhood."

"I _told_ you before, Pansy darling. I'm bored. Our Great Spirited placed a bounty on your head and now I've been well compensated for my efforts."

Neville and Pansy turned towards the door and saw Hugh standing there, flanked by many robed cultists and holding his wand. He had an black patch over the eye Stella took out but other than that he seemed completely fine despite the earlier altercation.

And he said 'Great Spirited' with just enough disdain that Pansy knew he didn't buy into the whole ideology of The Brotherhood.

He was, as he claimed, bored.

They were young and bored. Was she the greatest joke on the face of the planet or what?

Neville grabbed her hand, placing something solid and cold in her fingers as he did. Glass. She knew glass. He pulled her behind him but the cultists were surrounding them, holding them at wand point.

"I _hate_ Higgly-Hughes," Neville said as he dropped his wand to the ground, holding his hands up in surrender.

_You should've let me handle this one..._

"Yes," Pansy felt defeated. "I should have let you have your reunion, Stella. Forgive me?"

_Oh, honey. It's not over yet. Gus is waking up…_


	44. Chapter 44

"I will be with my wife, in the end, she is all I have," - _Neville... or Gus? Maybe Neville... Maybe Gus. . . . Both. Definitely both._

There was no tricking them now. Hugh Higgly-Hughes dragged Neville to what looked like a common area in the center of the house. There were practice dummies in one corner, a library in the other, a pool table against the far wall. Most of them were eating breakfast it seemed. Kids lounged around much the same way he used to in his dorm with Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean.

As if they'd just woken up for the day, lazily dragging their robes behind them or shrugging them on as they munched on oatmeal or toast.

He had to root out the real problem here. The ones running the show. This Hart guy seemed one, seeing as he identified himself as a 'Chosencaller' and Hugh for sure. And whoever the hell this 'Spirited' guy was.

He was the ruler over this little band of thugs. And no matter what, Neville was determined to show them the error of their ways. With force. The violent thoughts were becoming more and more powerful the longer the ropes kept his hands tied behind his back.

He hated being bound after everything we went through in 7th year. But that hatred had _nothing_ on the way Gus felt about being tied up. The ghost in his head was waking up slowly, like a bear from hibernation, more and more as the Effulgence potion wore off. And the higher to consciousness Gus rose, the more his personality seemed to blend into Neville's.

He never realized how violent Gus's true nature really was.

He felt himself losing control with every step he took and learning more about the ghost in his head than he had in months.

"This isn't going to be good," he warned the group herding him. "Not good at all…"

"I'll say," Hugh laughed, his wand swishing in such a way that had the ropes tightening even more. "There will be a party to end all parties once she's been sacrificed, and you'll probably go with her. Ha!"

"Gus," Neville muttered, feeling less like himself. Gus wasn't just taking control… Neville felt like he was becoming Gus. "Get control of yourself."

"Excuse me?" Hugh paused the procession of cultists to look at Neville. "What did you call me?"

With a snarky grin, Nev shook his head. "Sorry buddy, I'm not speaking to you. Gus… c'mon man. Get it together..."

_Where. The. Hell. Is my wife?!_

Inside his mind felt like a roaring storm of fire and confusion. Gus's thoughts a whirlwind that bombarded Neville's own until he felt himself getting sucked in… and he realized he was losing.

He caught image after image of a young man, a young Gus. Learning Magic at Hogwarts. Wearing a Brodie helmet and holding a rifle. Getting on a boat, setting sail for America...

"Who is Gus?" Hugh demanded to know.

But Neville shouted in pain, dropping forward and crashing into his knees with bruising strength, his arms aching from restraint. "Gus wait! Stop… Gus…"

The only reason he didn't fall right over was because of the grip the cultists had on each of his arms. But when they pulled him up, he was not Neville.

Golden brown eyes darkened to near black, his demeanor changing completely. Gus blinked a few times before standing up straight, looking over his shoulder at the ties that bound him. "Which one of you lads thought it prudent to tie me up?"

Hugh's eyes narrowed. "Why are you speaking like that?"

"This is how an Estampeur speaks, young man. You've claimed feelings of boredom on several occasions, allow me to rectify that."

But there was a knock at the door that had everyone turning to look. Except for Hugh. He eyed up Gus suspiciously. "Estampeur?"

"That's right, now let me loose from these bindings and we shall have a chance at a proper duel," he threatened in a low voice.

"But I have your wand…?" Hugh raised his eyebrow.

"I don't need a wand, you bumbling fool."

The tone alone kept Hugh from acting right away, a stare down on both sides despite Gus's hands being tied up. But then across the room all the lads began shouting out in excitement.

" _It's Harry!_ "

"Harry Potter!"

"Harry!"

"Er—hello there. I'm looking for my friend, Neville. Have you seen him?"

"Yes!"

"Right this way!"

"Follow me, Mr. Potter!"

"No, follow me!"

Harry, holding fast onto Ginny's hand, was herded to where Gus and Hugh stood by a rapidly growing group of teenage boys. Excited about their newest guest.

"Hey-hi-hello there," Harry stumbled when the crowd got too big, coming to an ungraceful stop right in front of Gus. "Heya Nev, what's going on here—"

"You might want to be careful, Great Savior—"

"He's been Imperius'd!"

"That witch had him under her spell!"

"Uhm… Yeah," Ginny nodded in agreement, nudging Harry with her elbow. "We heard, that's what we're doing here. We want to help save Neville from—"

"Mr. Potter," Hugh started, though he still watched Gus closely. "Would you happen to know—"

"Oh. My. Word. It's Harry Potter!" yet another voice interrupted. Hart burst through the crowd, literally pushing people over in his mission to get as close as possible. The stout man held up both hands, taking deep, gasping breaths. "I cannot believe my eyes. Our Savior. Our Great and One Savior!"

The cry sent the rest of the boys into loud, rambunctious cheers. Applauding for several minutes without pause.

Harry and Ginny looked distinctly uncomfortable, completely surrounded by a bunch of loons, with pictures of Harry all over the walls. Hugh stood on the outside of the circle, still eyeing up Gus and trying to figure him out.

Gus and Neville both realized there were two threats here. Hart was the dedicated wackjob and the most obvious threat to Pansy and Stella, but Hugh… he didn't buy into all this cult nonsense. His actions couldn't be predicted.

He had to get these ropes off and go find Stella and Pansy. And he had to do it quickly. The sun was already up.

Hart, still panting with excitement and smiling like a fool, made a lassoing gesture with his finger. "Take them to the Solarium! Our Great Savior and his beautiful wife can witness our true dedication to his cause when we sacrifice the witch in his great Name!"

The war cry sent the crowd into absolute hysterics and Hugh used the distraction to grab onto Gus's arm and pull him into a darkened hallway. "Alright lover boy," he said, pushing Gus into a small, windowless room. "Pansy was talking crazy earlier and now you are too. Spill it. What's going on here?"


	45. Chapter 45

"I will never be nice to you. I don't coddle. I hate small talk. I don't want personal information. I don't date and I don't make friends. Tell me what you need me to do to keep you safe, and I'll do it." - _Mattie, right before Pansy hired her as a Full-time bodyguard._

"Ow-"

"Stop-"

"Get off my feet-"

"It's so dark-"

"Can't see anything in all this brush-"

"What about Three Hot Witches?"

"Terrible band name-"

"Like three blind mice?"

"Hogwarts Study Group?"

"I didn't go to Hogwarts-"

"GET OFF MY FEET-"

"SHH!" Mattie pushed Red and Blondie down, covering both their mouths with her hands. She spotted a side entrance to the massive estate once the three of them broke off while the Potter's went to the front door. But getting there undetected required them to climb over a whole lot of sticky, spiky bushes. And they needed to do it quickly, as the sun was beginning to light up the morning sky.

And now, a group of three robed figures were patrolling very close to their crouched position—and talking very loudly. Which was probably the reason their girl band hadn't been discovered yet.

"I can't bloody wait for breakfast."

"I'm starved. Can't believe we drew the early shift."

"Least we get front row seats to the event."

"Here's hoping it's over quick. I'd kill for some hash browns right now."

It was silent for a second before the three guys all burst into laughter, walking by the brush the three of them were hiding in.

"What event?" Red whispered when they were far enough away.

"Is anyone else getting a bad feeling about this?"

"They sound like teenagers."

"What about Harry's Vixens?"

"I think that man gets enough worship," Mattie hissed, pulling them out of the brush. "Run for the door, let's go."

The chatter finally died down and the three of them quietly rushed from the brush and across the manicured lawn, Red and Blondie taking guard as she worked on the lock. Even Mattie had to admit they were competent when they weren't yammering about band names.

A single spell and the lock melted into a puddle on the ground, allowing the door to swing open. "Let's go."

She went first and immediately met the butt end of a Stunner. She brushed it off her nose as she rolled to the side, taking the hit with her. Blondie came in hot while Red jumped over them, her wand arcing over her head dramatically. Mattie watched a ring of red explode from that wand, bursting outwards and knocking three different guys out cold.

"Boom! What's up?" Red shouted. "I may or may not have had several glasses of wine tonight and I'm super hyped!"

"Um… stealth remember? Stealthy approach," Mattie reminded them. Pushing Susan's wand down and not wanting to admit that Stunner was actually quite impressive.

"Oh, sorry right. Ooo—what about Susie's Stunners? Because we are downright _stunning_."

"No."

"Pass."

"No puns?"

Mattie dragged all three of the young men Susie managed to knock out into the corner. Then they lined up, Mattie in the lead, Red behind her, and Blondie watching their backs, and together they went down the first hall they found, checking each room one by one.

"Why is this place so big?" Hannah asked, wand held in battle position.

"Why is it so _creepy_?" Susie asked, gesturing to the weird pictures hung all over the walls.

"Getting creepier…" Mattie told them, pushing in the knob of a wide door. It was made of heavy wood and swung inwards with a screechy creak that hurt all their ears reminded Mattie of the horror movies she loved to watch, by herself, in the middle of the night when she was a teenager. Beyond the door was a large room that had to span the majority of the house. Colossal ceilings were lined with dark wooden support beams that looked more decorative than necessary and giant wood carved pillars that seemed more than excessive.

The floor was smooth black and gold flecked, but what drew Mattie's eyes was in the very middle of the room, up on a marbled, drape lined altar was a giant fucking sword, dual edged with a golden hilt.

"Um… anyone else want to get the hell out of here?"

"Yeah," Mattie frowned, backing up and pulling the other two with her. "We need to find Pansy quick."

Except flooding through the opposite door was a whole group of robed cultists, hoods up, and wands out.

"Take cover!" she pushed Red and Blondie behind one pillar, barely dodging the first wave of stunners that shot across the room in a flurry of red.

Oh yeah. Red.

"Hey, Red," Mattie whispered, pressing into her ear. "I'll distract them, you hit them with that Stunner move you did earlier."

"Too easy," she whispered back. "Ready when you are."

Mattie pulled up her wand and checked around the pillar, watching as the dozen or so freaks marched towards them in creepy rows, beginning to spread out like locust as they continued to rain single Stunners towards where Susan and Hannah were hiding. She spit out her gum, wishing she had another cig, and darted the opposite way, waving her free hand to draw attention.

"Harry Potter is overrated and smells like chocolate frogs!" she shouted.

Several of them gasped, she heard it. Then they all started shooting at her. Mattie raised her wand while running for the next pillar, reflecting the spells as quickly as she could.

Red waited a second then poked her head out with a sinister grin, wand arcing over her head. The spell shot out towards the nearest cultists with a starburst of red, hitting the first one before it exploded outwards in ripples. It took four others down the ground, and Susan had already lined up the next one. It flung across the room and hit the furthest cultist while they were surprised.

Mattie slid to a stop behind the next pillar and sent a single Stunner at one of the remaining cultists as Blondie darted forward and hit the final one with a leg-locking jinx. He fell over on his back, hood coming down.

"Damn, nice moves Curls," Red and Blondie both skidded to a stop by the final cultist, kicking away his fallen wand.

Which Mattie picked up as she made her way to their position. She knelt down pressing her knee into his open palm. "Don't call me that."

"Ow-ow-ow!" he went still, eyes wide with fear, as the three of them came down around him. Red pushed the tip of her wand into his throat.

"First question," Mattie leaned over him, catching his eye. "Where is Pansy Parkinson?"

"I… I'm not supposed to say… I'm supposed to take this little pill if captured…"

"Second question," Blondie rushed out before Mattie could continue as Red took the pill from the boy and threw it across the room. They all knew about Ted Heathers and his sudden coma that led to death. "How old are you? Why are you here?"

"That's two questions."

"Answer the lady, young man!" Red pushed her wand even further into his soft neck.

"Uh… 15," he winced in fear. "I just joined because… you know there isn't much to do over the summer and this way I get three hot meals a day and get to practice magic!"

"How?" Mattie asked. "What about the Age Restriction?"

"Mr. Westerland works for the Ministry, he takes care of the estate for The Spirited."

"Who is that?" they asked at once.

"I don't know his name, he's the leader. He funds the whole place. I'm sorry! I'm scared…"

"Tell me where I can find Pansy Parkinson and I won't kill you," Mattie added her own wand to Red's followed by Blondie's, until three very sharp edges were pressed into his throat.

"Dow-down the hall, take the stairs. She's in the basement with the other hostages," he gulped.

Then Red punched him in the face.


	46. Chapter 46

Why do I always end up talking about my nonexistent love life with you?" - _Pansy to Gerry on a random rainy day._

Somehow, they were more angry with Neville than her after his lies. So much they decided to question him first. They dragged her back to the cell where Gerry and Wayne were still chained up and threw her with so much force she crumbled into the wall like a ragdoll.

The dungeon door slammed with finality.

"Oww," she cried softly, trying to pull herself up with the help of Gerry, who was closest. Strange how being thrown into solid walls could be painful.

"What happened, boss?" Wayne asked, pulling at his chains. He seemed to have more energy than the last time she saw them but without a wand or a key, how the hell were they going to get out of those chains?

"They have Neville," she moaned in pain. "He tried to play along and get me out but… I messed up and got us caught. Goddesses, this is my fault."

_Stay alert, sweetheart._

Gerry held her best he could, despite the giant chains weighing his hands down. "C'mon now," he told her, trying to soothe but his voice sounded gravelly as ever. "It's not over."

Pansy rested her head against Gerry's shoulder, glad to feel him hugging her back. "That's what Stella said. I should have listened to her."

"Look, Stella is probably more capable in these situations, but that doesn't mean you _aren't_ ," Gerry told her in a soft voice. Way softer than his normal. Somehow it made the situation seem all the more dire.

"I can't do anything," she argued, tears streaming down her face. "Hugh cornered me in the bathroom, I couldn't think of a single spell. Not one. Now he has Neville…"

She held up the piece of glass he put her hand. The one Mattie had originally given her. She'd recognized the shape but it was too dark to see the color. She couldn't signal Mattie to help. She was so useless.

"Next time you get the chance, say the first spell that comes to mind. No thinking, just act on instinct," Gerry told her. "You _can_ do this, Pansy. You will make it out of this."

"If something happens to you…"

"Stop." The word sounded so final.

She jerked her head up to look at Gerry, having never once heard him take such a harsh tone with her before. "Ger?"

"We all failed you tonight," he said, meeting her gaze with such intensity she dare not look away. "You hired us to protect you and your home and we failed. We are in this situation because of that and nothing else. Now you're the only one not chained and locked up. Get your head on right, do whatever you can to get us free, and we will get out of here."

_Terrific advice,_ Stella cooed. _I simply adore your guards, you know that? And I told you before… this one has them feelings for you._

"Uhm…" she felt her cheeks heat up at the very thought. "Stella told me something that I'm not sure I believe… Gerry…"

Her guard took a deep breath, as if he knew what she spoke of. "I'm your guard, Pansy. Hired to protect you. I will always be your guard. I don't want that to change."

"Me either," Pansy answered honestly, but she realized then things already had. They would never go back to the way it was before. Not after tonight. How did she miss this over the years? "Okay. I WILL get us out of this alive," she said out loud. Mostly to motivate herself. . . "But what can I do… all I have is this piece of glass…"

"All you need is a wand, just one wand," Wayne said with encouragement.

"You'll have to over power them next time they come in, we probably won't get another chance," Gerry added.

"Me? Over power? Sure, right," she put her face in her hands. "They didn't even see the need to chain me up. That's how pathetic they think I am."

"Then that's their mistake, we have to act on it," Wayne told her forcefully. "Door opens inwards, that's an advantage for us. Hide on this side of the door."

_You can do this, sweetheart. I believe in you._

"Maybe I should let Stella handle this?" she said, trembling slightly.

_Terrific idea honey. Move on over, let Stella out to play. Purrr-purrr._

Pansy waited, unsure of how to willingly give control to Stella after fighting her off for so long. A full minute went by before… "Okay this isn't working."

_Hell's Bells, baby girl, what did you do to me? I feel… trapped. I don't much care for being trapped!_

"I know you don't, Stel. Damn, never mind," Pansy pressed her back into the corner, looking out over Wayne and Gerry who were chained up and beaten because of her.

_Honey, whatever you did before, that rage that subdued me, you need that more than ever. These boys might be misguided youths… but they came after your family and your husband. Use that. Protect them. We're all countin' on you, honey._

"They haven't gone anywhere alone, boss," Wayne told her softly. "When they come, don't go for the first person to walk in because there will be more behind him."

_Try to trip the first one, honey. The second one will be distracted and you can get the jump on him. The goal is to disable as quickly as possible so you have less threats to deal with._

Pansy made her hands into fists, filling her lungs with breath and focusing as hard as she could as Stella, Wayne, and Gerry gave her pieces of advice. The glass in her hand was her only chance. Stella was right. Gerry was right. It was on her this time.

_Your instinct might be to go for the groin,_ Stella said slowly. _And there is no better way to ruin a man's day but most men are too good at protecting that area. Go for the eyes instead._

"You went for the groin, back at the house..." she pointed out, remembering the feeling of her knee taking out Hugh.

_Only after I stabbed that sucker in the eye, sweetie._

When this was over, if she managed to pull a miracle out of thin air, Pansy was determined to give Stella and Gus their reunion if for no other reason than she did to Hugh what Pansy only imagined doing. But she wanted them to have that time together, because now she knew what it was like to be separated from the one she wanted to be with.

And there was no confusion about it either, despite the rolling emotions coming from both her and Stella. Pansy was positive. She _wanted Neville_. And she was afraid.

Afraid of what would happen to him.

Afraid she might not see him again.

… Afraid she would die a virgin with a horny ghost purring in her head.

She didn't have to wait long before they heard footsteps out in the hallway.

The ritual was coming up and she didn't imagine for a second these loons wouldn't be anything less than punctual. The heavy door opened and Wayne and Gerry immediately started shouting to draw their attention.

"Let us out of here, damn it!"

"Get me out of these things so we can have a real fight!"

_Oh, honey, hit that sucker with the door._

Blinking rapidly, Pansy grabbed the edge of the door with one hand and swung it as hard as she could into the first guy—who stumbled hard enough he fell forward and right in front of Gerry.

Who immediately took the chains hooked to his ankles and quickly wrapped them around the cultist's neck, squeezing so tight the boy started going red in the face. Pansy went for the second guy, knowing exactly what to do. She threw her whole body into him, forcing him towards Wayne. They both went down but it worked. Wayne grabbed the second cultist but the third—and why was there always three?—grabbed onto Pansy's ankle and dragged her away from the safety range of her guards.

Cold stone dug into her skin as her shirt bunched up. Desperately flailing for something to grab onto with one hand, she tried to sit up and use the glass in her hand as a weapon but he continued dragging her out of the room and into the hallway.

"Let me go!" she shouted, twisting and turning to get out of his hold.

"I don't think so, lady!" he shouted. He jerked her hard enough to swing across the floor and into the opposite wall, the stone biting into her bare skin and making every muscle in her body begin to ache. Again.

Another wall. Great. "Gahh!" she screamed on impact. Mattie's glass released from her hand, flying off and sliding away down the hall.

_Get up. Get up now. Pansy! ROLL!_

She did what Stella said, rolling away from the wall before the last guy could kick her against it. His foot instead found the tops of her thighs. "Ahh-ow!"

_Grab him! Wrap around his ankles!_

Pansy kept rolling despite her pain, and curled up around his feet like a snake forcing him to tip over. "Whoa!" he shouted.

Tumbling over, she kept rolling until she came up on her knees. Which were starting to throb.

_Baby girl, find his wand. Hurry, no time to waste._

Frantically, she grabbed at his robes, looking for a pocket and finding his wand on his left. He reached up to grab her hands but she pulled away last second, a chunky, blackened wand clutched in her grasp.

"Stay right there!" she shouted, adrenaline making her shake.

_KILL HIM PANSY, THIS IS NO TIME FOR NICETIES._

"I can't do that…" she gasped… but she wouldn't let him get the chance to recapture her either. " _S-stupefy!_ "

Red sparks shot from the wand that felt nothing like her own and hit the young boy right in the chest. He slumped over, robe covering his face as he did.

_Check your guards!_ Stella rushed out. _This isn't over yet._

"Right," Pansy darted back into the room, perfectly amazed that she managed to cast a spell, a Defensive Spell, with a wand that wasn't her own.

She pointed it straight out as she reentered the dungeon, only to find Gerry and Wayne pointing wands at her, Wayne still working on getting out of his chains. They dropped them as soon as they saw it was her.

"Did we do it?" she gasped, the trembles getting worse. She wiped at her lip and found blood on her hand when it came away. If she got thrown into another wall…

"We? Pansy, that was all you!" Wayne, finally free of his chains, scooping her up in a hug. "I'm so proud of you!"

"There's Anti-Apparation wards up, we're going to have to get off the property before we can get you to St. Mungo's."

"C'mon," she returned Wayne's enthusiastic hug before stepping back. There was no time to relish in her victory. "Let's get Neville and get the hell outta here."

Stepping back out into the hallway, Pansy was immediately clobbered by a tall redheaded woman.

"Wait! That's Pansy!" another woman shouted.

But Gerry charged out of the room after Pansy and took her down to the ground.

Then they heard the smacking of gum.


	47. Chapter 47

"No, I will not shut up about it. I quite liked you and Hannah together. But there's something... sparkly about the thought of you and Pansy. She's... spunky. Don't ask me what I mean by that, I don't know. But I stand by it." - _Susan Bones in a letter to Neville_

Gus took the hit right to the jaw and didn't make a sound. The ropes around his wrist were secured to a rickety wooden chair and they tightened with every hit.

"What is Estampeur?" Hugh asked. This lad was doing his best to get information but it wasn't good enough. His mistake thinking going physical would work out in any sort of favor. Gus might've been born a wizard, but he was raised as a Muggle… and sent to war as one too.

Afterwards, he left to travel the world and get new sights and memories in his mind other than the sounds of screaming boys and bombs going off in the night. And found that wars weren't the only reason for the dismal state of the world. A world that wasn't all that much kind to loners and those without money.

So he took money where he could find it and he found someone who didn't make him feel alone. Seeing Stella for the first time erased a lot of the evil from Gus's mind.

Hugh hit his jaw again from the opposite side, sending his head sharply to the right. He spit blood on the floor and looked up to meet the man's eyes. "You're going to have to do better than that, youngster."

Gus was tough. But the body he inhabited... even he had to admit the young Neville had lived through and experienced troubles on par with his own. His own war. His own pains. His own struggles. And all their differences aside, Gus could relate himself to Neville. It made them a good pair.

_If you can get his wand…_

"I don't need a wand to disable him," Gus muttered, lip busted. "Just one free hand."

_Ohh yeah, you're such a tough guy. Doesn't need his wand to win in a fight. We all get it, Gus. You know how to throw a hook. But guess what? It's not about proving how much you can take right now. Get the wand, get out of here. Save our damn wives!_

"Oh? Now you admit she's your wife," Gus laughed out loud, sounding nasally. The blood pooling in his sinuses might have something to do with it. He spit again at Hugh's feet. "I told you months ago that woman was yours."

"Tell me who you are talking to, Longbottom," Hugh demanded, making a show of rolling up his sleeves. He had to keep doing it, because the robes didn't fit well and they kept falling. This whole place was a joke.

"My name is Augustus Estampeur—"

_No, don't tell him anything. He can use it against Pansy and Stella._

"Young men always think they know better. He already knows something is up, chump. Will you trust me for one minute? I know what I'm doing."

_You know what you're doing? You're tied up and getting punched in the face, Gus. MY FACE._

"Who-are-you-talking-to?" Hugh demanded, stomping his foot like a whiny child.

"There's nothing worse for society than a bored fat-cat with nothing better to do," Gus grunted in disapproval. "Is that right, Neville? This boy, you said he was rich?"

_Yeah. He's a Higgly-Hugh. They have boat loads of gold and influence all over the country and across the continent._

"A Higgly-Hugh? What kind of pompous surname is that?" Gus asked, purposely ignoring Hugh and all his huffing. "Perhaps it's a shoot off of the last name 'Higley', lords and leaders, a prominent force of the village and 'Hugh' of course from the word huge in reference to heart or mind. Or spirit. So, a leader of heart and spirit. And yet you're here, wasting your time with a bunch of thugs and adolescents."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hugh asked, seeming quite chided.

"You have a huge pool of resources at your disposal, the time and support to make a real mark on this world and instead you… put on a cheaply made robe and stalk my wife for a good jive."

Hugh pointed at him in a real 'a-ha' way. "Wife. You're calling Pansy your wife, why? You aren't married."

_Not yet._

Gus smiled at the soft whisper and tugged at his ropes again, finding them still secure. It seemed Higgly-Hugh was good at one thing at least. "That's my wife, boy. Married her in 1958 and died with her the very same day. I have nothing in the entire world to lose beside her, meaning I will stop at nothing and no one to get to her. Your little sissy hits will achieve nothing."

_Touching… real touching Gus. But it's not going to work. This guy is as clueless as he is heartless. He isn't here for the cause… we need to convince him helping us is in his best interest._

"Neville brings up an excellent point," Gus told Hugh's wildly confused face. "Your desires aren't being met, are they Higgly-Hugh? You claimed you took the bounty on Ms. Parkinson's head out of boredom, is that correct or was there an ulterior motive?"

"I mean," Hugh shrugged like nothing really mattered. "I don't particularly like her. So there's that."

_Oh my Goddesses, Gus, I swear if you don't strangle this guy with my own two hands—_

"What would you do if I offered you more money?" Gus smirked, stretching Neville's mouth crookedly. "Of course you have money. Plenty of money. Maybe I should sweeten the pot. A story perhaps? What do you think about a pile of forgotten diamonds?"

… _what the hell are you talking about Gus? Diamonds? Where did you get … oh._

"February 20th, 1958. My wife and I robbed Harrington's Jewelry in London and made out with thousands of diamonds, none of which have ever been recovered."

_Okay, even I can admit that you are one scary son of a bitch, Gus._

"So, let me just make sure I got this straight," Hugh began pacing and thinking out loud. "You are… what? A vampire?"

"No."

"Used a De-Ageing Potion?"

"No."

"...Ghost?"

Gus smiled.

"Ahh, and you've possessed Neville Longbottom… that explains what he's doing with Parkinson of all people." Then he seemed to make a decision. "Tell me where the diamonds are."

"Get me to my wife, and I'll give you the exact location of our loot."


	48. Chapter 48

"At some point along the way, that scared, timid, jam-making, agoraphobic, glass painting witch some how, some way managed to... become my... oh gods I can't even say it... my... my... _friend_." - _Mattie groaning to her Granny over some good home cooking._

Hannah was pinned to the ground by a tall, muscled man with piercing blue eyes and a square jaw that made her body shiver involuntarily. Yummm- _my_. And despite the very obvious danger they were all in, all she could think about was the fact she hadn't had sex in a long freakin' time.

He seemed to realize she was _not_ part of this crazy cult due to that fact that she was one, a woman. And two, with Mattie. Who stopped right above them, twirling her wand around, and smacking bright pink gum very loudly. Not even smacking in the heads of several wacko-cultists had improved her mood in the slightest. "Hey Ger. This is Blondie. She gives men heart attacks. Watch out."

"Mattie," he growled out a greeting that did not sound friendly one bit.

Which made Hannah's throat dry up with excitement. Oh my... He looked down at her before standing up and helping her to her feet with two sturdy hands. It happened so quickly, Hannah felt a bit dazed. And for the first time… happy to be single.

How had she missed that? Nev and her were _split_ … which meant… The world was open to her. She could date anyone. Anyone! Like Mr. Yummy.

"Please accept my apologies," he offered before turning around to help Pansy. It didn't sound very sincere but her brain was doing that thing where it decided she didn't care one bit.

"Susie," Hannah shook herself. "That's Pansy."

"Oh!" she jumped up quickly as tall, blonde, and _perfect_ helped Pansy to her own feet. "I'm sorry! I didn't recognize you! Your hair is insanely long. Also, we've taken out 15 of these freaks so far. Do you know how many are left?"

"No, it seems like they have a never ending supply of kids and creepy cult robes... Susie… Susan Bones?"

"Nope," Mattie smacked. "That's Red. Red has a Stunner like a blastwave and a mean right hook."

"And we've renamed Mattie to Curls," Susie said with a wink. "We're starting a punk rock band. I'm thinking… Thunder Lips for the band name."

"Do not call me curls," Mattie snarled. "And Thunder Lips? Really? That is the worst name I've ever heard."

"What about Bombshell Babes?" Hannah suggested with a grin, looking right at Mr. Yummy.

"Neville calls her Bubblegum," Susie offered. "I like Bubblegum better than curls."

"Oh my god, I'm going to stab that Neville Longbottom," Mattie rolled her eyes. "Are you okay, Parkinson?"

Pansy held her side like she'd hurt it, and her lip was busted, but she smiled wide as she looked between them. Hannah wished the witch was wearing a cute dress and making jam instead of looking like she went through hell. "It's been a night."

"Matt, have you seen the girls? Are they okay?"

Hannah hadn't noticed the other man. He was tall. And dark. But not dark like Mattie. Dark like a Latin Dream. And had an accent that sounded cute as hell to her ears.

"I took them to Bernie's, trust me, they'll be safe there. My granny only got meaner with age. And she's 100 fucking years old."

"Thank the Goddesses," Pansy put a hand over her heart, clearly used to dealing with Mattie's hostility. "All we need is Nev."

"And Harry and Ginny," Hannah told them, tapping her ear gently. "They are in the front room, being a distraction. We can hear them."

"You all came to help save us?" Pansy asked, seeming quite surprised at the notion.

"Of course," Red said, bumping Pansy's shoulder. She winced in pain, but smiled again as she looked up at everyone around. And Hannah thought maybe she realized why Neville would want to kiss Pansy of all people.

He always said he was attracted to fierceness, to loud-live-large types. He'd always said as much while giving her a flirty wink. And at first glance Pansy seemed a timid, quiet type that wouldn't even register on Neville's radar. But Hannah realized her fierceness was a quiet, hidden thing.

Especially when she raised her wand. "Let's go get Neville and get the hell out of here."

It was the war cry they all needed, even Hannah felt like throwing her fist in the air and charging into battle. But before they could all go running off, there was a buzz that sounded above them, like someone coming over the intercom at the grocer. Like Umbridge used to do in 5th year. It gave her chills.

"Brothers, the ritual sacrifice will begin in 15 minutes. Ritual sacrifice in 15 minutes. All pupils to the common area for Ritual Sacrifice. Thank you."

Hannah and Susie shared a look. "What?!" they shouted together.

"So, yes," Pansy rolled her eyes. "There's that whole bit where they're trying to sacrifice me in the name of their 'Great Savior'."

"Oh the altar!"

"And the sword!"

"What sword?" Gerry asked.

"Okay but they don't have you… we do…" Hannah pointed out.

"Yeah," Susie continued. "So who are they going to sacrifice?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Mattie popped in a new piece of gum. "Lover boy."

Oh no… Hannah's heart sped up. Neville was in real danger. Everything aside, the break up, the crying, the yelling, the throwing things through the Floo… The last thing she would ever want was Neville to be hurt.

But the look on Pansy's face distracted Hannah from her own concern. As they watched, Pansy's bright silver eyes darkened to a deep green. Her posture straightened in such a way it seemed she grew a few inches.

"Here we go again," Mattie mumbled crankily.

"Stella wait," Pansy put a hand against her own forehead, panting slightly. "Stella—wait—wait— _Sweeeeeeeeet_ Nectarine, Pansy baby girl you are makin' this damn hard on me."

That accent was thicker than her step-mom's pot roast.

"Stella," the tall, delicious man said. Ooops. Did she just refer to him as delicious? Hell, the truth was the truth. "Give us Pansy back."

"Nooooo, I willlll notttt," Pansy said, dragging each word out, her entire demeanor completely changed. She wagged a finger in the air at Mr. Yummy like he was a naughty child. "She and I are playin' a game of tug-o-war and right now and I'm in the lead. These cultist weirdos got my husband and are plannin' to sacrifice him in the name of some scrawny boy with a damn scar on his forehead? I. Don't. Think. So."

"Husband…" Hannah laughed. "It's true then, you _are_ possessed."

"Sweetheart, I am not possessed. I am the possess- _or_. And I don't have time for this."

She marched forward, pushing everyone out of her way, and throwing the wand to the ground—"Won't be needing that silly thing."

"I really need a new job," Mattie said, reluctantly following Pansy… or rather... Stella.

Susie laughed, taking Hannah's arm. "Let's go stop a sacrifice, _Blondie_."


	49. Chapter 49

"Expect the unexpected, see the unexpected," - _The first thing Gus ever said to Stella._

As a group they left the basement and waited in the stairwell as Stella watched out the door. Beyond her, in the hallway, a march of kids were all heading towards the big room. The room Mattie, Hannah, and Susan apparently found a giant sword and altar in.

Dollars to doughnuts that's where the sacrifice was taking place.

"There's too many to take them all on. This place is huge, it must house them all some way," she whispered to Mattie, watching the haphazard line of red robes.

"And now they've gathered, even all of us can't take them out head to head. It would be… maybe… 5 to 1, not in our favor…" she whispered back. "What would you do, Stel?"

"I'm thinkin'... this line is about to end, and we have two hunky boys on our side…" she looked at Mattie with a grin, which the witch returned.

"Okay, 3… 2… 1… go!"

She and Mattie slipped from the door quietly and quickly, grabbing the last two robed kids at the end of the line and dragging them back through the doorway, muffling their screaming.

"Shh shh honey, it's alright. We all know you're young and impressionable," Stella purred right before Gerry knocked the kid out with a fist to the back of his head. "Still your fault though. Children are so, so naughty."

Gerry and Wayne both stole away the mulberry colored robes and put on the garments quickly.

"Here take this," Hannah reached up and took the small stone from her ear, offering it to Gerry. "It will keep you in touch with us."

_Oh my Goddesses… is that… is she?_

"You can say that again, hon, _me-ow_ ," Stella purred as Red nudged Mattie.

"Hey Blondie," she called out. "Ger's got a job to do, but he definitely has a sweet tooth you can indulge. Later."

_Oh Mattie, must you?_

But the best part was when Gerry's cheeks flushed as he took the small stone and plopped it in his ear without a word, his eyes suddenly unable to look Hannah in the face. Then he rushed off to join the line before it got too far ahead.

Wayne shrugged into his own robe, bumping Mattie on the way out. "Did you make some friends, Matt? We're real proud."

"I don't make friends, Wayne. Get out of here." She pushed the man through the doorway with a little too much force. They ran off and joined the line of cultists marching towards the great room.

_She made friends with Nev's ex and best friend. I did not see that coming._

Hannah fanned her face, taking a big, dreamy sigh. "I realize this is a super situation—also nice band name—but I want everyone to know I would lick things off that man. Yeah. I want to dip him in chocolate sauce and—"

"Veto on the band name," Mattie interrupted, shouting loudly. "Are either of you even musically talented?"

"I can play the mandolin, though I certainly haven't had time to practice lately. Nev's been giving me so much shite for it."

_Stella, tell them Mattie can sing. Like an angel._

"I'm fair on the piano…" Hannah said, a happy glint in her eyes, clearly not thinking about the band or the piano...

"And Pansy says you can sing," Stella nudged Mattie. "I'm feelin' like a song is comin' on soon."

With a groan, Mattie rolled her eyes and turned to keep an eye out. "I. Don't. Sing. I'm sorry I even asked."

_"Yeah—hey—It's Harry. These guys got Gin and I locked in a room, but there's a ton of files in here. We're going through them but I don't know how much longer we have before the uh…"_

_"Ritual, love. The word you're searching for is ritual,"_ Ginny told them over the stones.

_"Yeah well, ritual, and yeah, also now we know why Pansy's case file was tragically empty… because it's here. That Westerland fellow apparently works for the Ministry."_

"Hellllllllooo," Stella snapped several times. "Ladies, fill in kitty cat. What's happenin'?"

"Harry found Pansy's case file in one of the rooms here."

"Bastards," Stella swore, sounding more like Pansy than herself. "Of course they did!"

_No wonder Harry couldn't find anything. Neville's going to be upset when he finds out about this..._

She turned to peer through the door opening again, bumping shoulders with Mattie… and sucked in a breath. "Gus…"

Two robed figures were walking the hallway towards them, one holding the piece of glass Mattie gave to Pansy… and sporting a face she hadn't seen in 50 years.

_Oh my… that's… that's actually Gus! But… where's Neville?_

But Stella swung the door open without waiting and rushed down the hallway, not caring one way or the other how it was her husband's face she spotted instead of Neville's.

"Gus!" she cried out. "Oh Gus!"

The figures stopped, the taller one pulling down his hood to reveal a sharp jaw and dark eyes. "Stella!" he shouted, opening his arms.

_Wow… he's even better looking in real life, Stel._

"You're damn right he is," Stella jumped into Gus's arms, a smile so wide it was hurting Pansy's cheeks. "You look like my husband."

She grabbed his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks, before kissing him fiercely, mouths melding and tongues dueling for supremacy. Making Stella purr with happiness. "You _kiss_ like my husband…"

"You better not be kissing anyone else, Mrs. Estampeur," he growled, his hands grabbing her greedily, as if he wanted all of her all at once.

Inside, Pansy was panting. _Oh Goddesses, Stel, I don't think I can handle this…_

"No one, 'cept maybe that stud you've been wearin', baby," Stella moaned through swollen lips. "He's mighty good lookin', but I'd rather eat you up, Mr. Estampeur."

"The young Neville asks after his wife," Gus said between frantic kisses. He turned to press Stella into the wall, using his knees to lift her higher and get better leverage.

Hey, they were horny.

"And Pansy acts like she doesn't know Neville speaks of her when he says 'wife'," Stella laughed, bringing both hands up to his cheeks. She peered into his dark eyes, feeling at home and beyond loved, beyond death. As she fell further into Gus's rich gaze, the last day of Stella's life flashed before her eyes, and Pansy's too.

Until she fell so deep into Gus's brown eyes when she blinked, she looked around and found herself standing in a Duchesse Satin wedding gown, a bouquet of white calla lilies and white roses in her hand, and Gus standing beside her in a brown pinstripe suit.

"I do," she said out loud. Gus didn't wait for the officiant before he swept her up in their first marital kiss.

Dear Lord in Heaven, she loved him beyond a shadow of a doubt. Loved him until her toes curled and her breath stopped, until she wanted everything with and for him. The rest of their life together stretched out before her very eyes. Doing what they wanted, when they wanted, because they wanted and nothing could stop them…

Except for…

As she broke away from the kiss, enthralled and floating on air as a picture snapped in the background. The sound coincided with a silver and gold link bracelet wrapping around her wrist, the weight slight but heavy at the same time. She looked down and watched a matching piece of jewelry wrap around Gus's wrist with a flair of magic that didn't seem familiar in the least. Black and insidious.

It didn't seem like anything Gus had ever done before.

She knew right then something was terribly wrong, a force stealing her gaze from her husband.

And to her father.

_Stella, stop… you're not alone. I'm here… and your father is_ not.

"It's all my fault," Stella said to Gus. "Daddy came after us because I deceived him."

"He came after us because he couldn't bear to lose control of you and your future. But I know you, Stella-bug. You wouldn't have been happy with them, a socialite heiress trapped in that company and family, married off to some covetous hound. You're meant to be free."

Gus caressed her cheek with a single finger, knowing her better than she knew herself.

"Well as moving as this all is," a snide voice interrupted. "I believe I've fulfilled my end of the bargain."

_Argh. It's Hugh,_ Pansy groaned. _I can't believe he's ruining this reunion for you Stel! This night just keeps getting better and better._

"It's daytime now, sugar," Stella tilted her head to get a better look at Hugh Higgly-Hugh… The Groper. "And this one… oh Gus, did you strike a deal with the no-good likes of this boy?"

Gus's hands tightened around her. "It got him to stop hitting me."

With a pout, Stella brushed her thumb over the split in his lip. "He did that to you?"

"You know I can take a little abuse," he grinned.

"Helllllooo?" Hugh continued on, sounding put out. "I want my diamonds!"

_Diamonds?_

"Diamonds?" Stella laughed. "Oh Gus, you tricky wonderful man."

She hopped down from the safety of Gus's arms, loathe to leave his warm embrace for even a second, and sashayed over to stand before Hugh. Both her and Pansy were happy to see him flinch as she got closer. Stella reached up to pet the side of his face that had the eye patch. An eye patch to cover up the injury she gave him.

"We are dead," Stella mused, laying the accent on thick. "What use for those diamonds have we? And you brought my Gus to me."

_What are you up to, Stella?_

"Oh you'll see, honey," she began circling Hugh, laughing a husky, sexy sound. He followed her movements wary and unsure. "I'm sensin' we got off on the wrong foot, Mr. Higgly-Hugh, something I think I'd like to rectify."

Stella stopped so that Hugh was between her and Gus… and facing away from the door.

_Oh, Stel, you're a genius!_

"It's rather odd to see Pansy's face and hear that atrocious accent," Hugh commented rudely. "Can't wait until they sacrifice her."

_Well… it's easy to be genius compared to Hugh, Goddesses what an idiot…_

Stella laughed. A real laugh. It was the first time Pansy had heard it out loud and it gave her no problems understanding how Gus could have fallen in love at first sight.

While Hugh watched Stella, Mattie slipped through the doorway.

"Listen, Higgly-Hugh," Stella wiped her eyes, attempting to gain control of herself. "Ain't no way the likes of you, you no-good groping ankle-biter is layin' a single finger on _mah_ diaah-monds!"

At the end of her passionate cry, Mattie's short, Black Ash wand jabbed forward as she nonverbally cast a Stunner. It hit Hugh right in the back of his pompous head, and he crumbled to the ground like a bag of bricks.

"Nice job," Susan and Hannah dashed forward from their hiding place. "Whoa…"

"So… who is this again?"

"Gus?"

Stella crossed her arms, staring at Neville's sweet-as-pie ex. "Now you better not start oglin' my husband like you were oglin' Gerry, Han-nah Abbott!"

Mattie and Gus both laughed, but Hannah threw her hands up. "I'm not! I'm as-kin'," she mocked Stella's accent. "If this is Gus, then where is Neville?"

"Technically, I am Neville," Gus bowed his head slightly. "Used that handy Disguising Charm he's so adept at."

"Right? See my problem?" Hannah looked from Gus, to Mattie, to Susan, to Stella. "If he's 'technically' Neville, and you're 'technically' Pansy… then who are they sacrificing?!"


	50. Chapter 50

"The physical aspects of our relationship are _dyn-o-mite_ , sweetheart. But there's nothin' better than when Gus and I fight. I can only hope you and that stud find out what I'm sayin'." - _Stella to Pansy._

Gus summoned a bat for Stella and she was so damn happy to see him, she couldn't help but skip down the hall towards the great room in nothing but a crookedly buttoned shirt and singing at the top of her lungs.

The plan was to go in hot. If they had more time, they might've gotten a better plan together. But as it was, the sun was up, the crowd was gathered, and they were out of time.

They hadn't a clue who was being sacrificed, but they had Harry and Ginny on their side. Wayne and Gerry were planted in the crowd. And she had Gus back.

They had all the cards they could possibly play.

"Lollipop, lollipop, ooo lolli-lollipop!" she kicked the door in.

What a sight to behold. It looked like a school assembly surrounding a giant marble altar upon which stood a large, two-handed sword with a curved dual-edged blade and golden hilt that didn't look used in the slightest.

And in front of that altar...

_Oh my Goddesses!_ Pansy shouted. _How did they_...

"His kiss is sweeter than an apple pie," Stella sang loud and proudly, her voice ringing out across the great room. And drawing the attention of about a hundred robed figures, including Hart Westerland. Who stood in front of Draco Malfoy, who was bound to the altar, forced on his knees.

Looking _hostile._

While Pansy lost her marbles over the Malfoy boy, Stella caught sight of two figures were a bit taller than the rest. Gerry and Wayne, just waiting for her signal.

"And when he does his shakey rockin' dance," she continued, swinging the bat in time with her singing, shaking her own hips back and forth. "Boys, you haven't got a chance… Oh that's not _quite_ the words, is it?"

There was an uproar of confusion and hustle as they all reached for their wands and began to come for her. After all, what they really wanted was to sacrifice Pansy and at that moment, Stella looked like the stunning jam-making painter who managed to capture all their hearts. But she was Stella Clemetine Bohnefeld Estampeur and she _always_ got her way.

Dead or alive.

"Now now boys, I'm here to surrenda, allllllright? Clear _ly_ , I am outnumbered, outmatched, and outta luck. I accept that. We been goin' around in circles all night and I'm plum tired of it! Just tired!"

Hart stumbled through the crowd, a crowd full of young boys who were just bored and looking for something to do over the summer, coming before Stella with a red face and a stern finger. "Stop right there you vicious demon!"

"... I'm not movin'...?" Stella sighed with exasperation. "Honey, seriously, how did these morons capture us?"

_I'm sorry Stella, I was so afraid of them for so long, I just assumed they were better than me._

"Well now you know better," Stella grinned and flipped her bat around.

"... who are you talking to?" Hart asked, blinking rapidly and seeming extra confused.

"Pansy, of course," Stella tapped her head with a knowing grin. "She's possessed, by me, pleased to meet you. I'm Stella Clementine Bohnefeld Estampeur and I died in 1958. It's sad, but I've long since accepted my fate. What I don't accept, under any circumstances, is the death of this perfect, amazin' witch named Pansy Parkinson who hasn't done a _thang_ to hurt you."

"Uh…"

"I'm utterly disappointed in the youths of today, in my time, boys were taught to be respectful of ladies. To hold open doors for them, give them your arm, help them from the car, rescue them from dire situations…"

"Stella," Draco called out from the altar, struggling against his bindings. "That was the 50's. Now women just… save themselves. They don't need men."

"Oh!" Stella grinned widely, swaying back and forth on her feet. "Pansy says, We just hire bodyguards to do it for us, how wooooonnnnderful!"

"Lady, you're weird," the nearest cultist said.

"You have no idea," Stella grinned and swung the tip of her bat right into Hart's still-confused face.

It stopped a mere inch from his face, frozen in time. It forced Stella to stumble from the backlash of her own movement.

The spell rang out through the room, a deep unfamiliar voice that held a firm tone of authority. "Everyone stay calm," it continued. And the crowd parted to allow a tall, old wizard with a groomed beard down to mid chest, his steel-gray hair slicked back professionally, wearing a three piece suit in the same color as the cultist's robes. He held a gold pocket watch in one hand, showing the hour hand had just passed 8 AM and a sturdy, rod straight wand in the other.

This must be the leader.

The Spirited.

Arkin Josephson-Bridger.

"This is not a welcome I wanted for our guests," he continued, not sounding like a cultist fanatic and more like a reasonable dad upset with his kids. His hand came out to gesture towards the far door, which opened and revealed Harry and Ginny, escorted by three cultists each. "We do not condone violence."

_YEAH RIGHT!_

"Shh, honey, let kitty handle this," Stella forced a laugh. "Now seein' as a lot of violence has been shown, I'm thinkin' you're either a downright liar or unaware of the poor treatment shown to Pansy Parkinson not just tonight, but the last several years."

"It seems to me that the violence was incited by Ms. Parkinson, the moment she declared for the opposing side," he said, eyes glinting madly.

_Argh! I can't stand this any longer, Stella! We have to end this, now. This is ridiculous! The war is over, I'm not on any side!_

"I know, honey," Stella cooed, putting her hands on her hips, on the verge of another tirade.

But Harry spoke up. "Anyone else who tries to hurt my friend Pansy is under arrest, I'm breaking this whole operation up. We fought in the war to stop people from dying, not cause more pain and death. If any of you truly want to follow in my footsteps, you'll stand down. Right now."

A hush came over the crowd, several people lowering their hoods. Harry words causing nearly all to pause and think about what they were doing—and why they were doing it in the first place. Why hunt Pansy down when Harry clearly just claimed her a friend?

But cults didn't make sense. They were all about power. And Arkin seemed to smile at Harry's proclamation, as if they were exactly what the man wanted. "Your words seem wise and well thought out, Mr. Potter… but we know the truth here at The Brotherhood. This witch wanted to sacrifice you in the name of The Dark Lord! Doesn't matter how many years ago that was or that she's managed to trick you into believing she's changed! She's evil! And evil must always be destroyed."

The crowd went wild, the kids used to following their leader, and spurred on by his words, it seemed a fight was about to break out.

They wanted a damn fight. Fine. She'd give him a fight. "You ready, Pansy?"

_Yes. I'm ready Stella, and I won't let you down. Please don't let them hurt Draco._

The crowd turned on Stella, who put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. "You want a fight? I got a fight right here for ya!"

An all out brawl broke out.

Harry shouted, "AIM TO STUN!" as him and Ginny drew their wands and disappeared into the crowd of red. Mattie, Hannah, and Susan busted through the door behind Stella, wands already out and Stunners flying through the air.

Mattie was right. Susan had a Stun like a blastwave. Her first spell shot through the air with confidence, knocking out those closest to Stella like a bowling bowl getting a strike. Ka-BLAM.

Gus came up behind her, still in the stolen robes, Neville's wand in one hand and the other wrapping an arm around her waist. He blocked a wayward spell and pulled her into a kiss. Frantic, desperate, and hot as hell. "I got you, Stella-bug."

He summoned another bat for her and it was off to the races. She dunked and dodged spells and fists, and the ones where she wasn't quick enough Gus reflected with his magic. They'd had plenty of practice doing just this. She used her bat and sent as many robed figures to the ground as she could, making her way towards the center of the room and to where Draco was tied up.

Arkin seemed to disappear all together in the crowd, despite his extravagant outfit. Happy to incite violence but not wanting to be a part of it. But Stella was bound and determined to put that slimy face of his right into the ground where it belonged. About two hops from the altar, a real plucky lad managed to dodge her swing and grab the handle with both hands, attempting to yank it from her grasp.

"Excuse me?" she shouted, pulling it back, yo-yoing it between them.

"Give it to me, lady!" he shouted.

"Well, okay then," she said, letting go just when he went to pull it. His own momentum made him stumbled backwards, and right into another cultist freak. They both went down and Stella swooped over to retrieve her bat, conking them both on the head for their troubles. "Ya got what ya asked for! Don't go complainin'!"

She boxed jumped up onto the altar as Gus stayed on the floor, his wand flicking outwards and up as he shot off spell after spell, red sparks flaring through the air. "Honey! Knife!" she called, dropping her bat on the cultist that ran up underneath her. The tip thunked quite pleasantly against the top of his head, sending him to the floor.

Gus pushed the nearest cultist away and spun his wand towards her before he continued his battle. A graceful dagger appeared in her hand, her fingers wrapping around a worn brown leather hilt. "Ahh, beautiful," she cooed happily, kneeling down to cut the bindings that were digging into Draco's hands and ankles.

They'd hog tied him and the marks did not disappear as easily. "There there, gorgeous, all better now," Stella said, yanking the ropes and setting him free.

He struggled up to his feet, but grabbed her shoulders for balance. Or because he seemed ticked. "Pansy, I blame you for this," he spat out meanly.

Stella laughed. "She says suck it up, buttercup, she's gonna need you when this all over and done with to sue the hell outta the Higgly-Hughes and anyone else we can."

The talk of legal action centered him and he looked around. Stella shoved the blade in his hand and gave a wink. "Best I can do under the circumstances, you delicious looking hottie-tottie."

Then she grabbed the sword from its holder, the one they meant to stick Pansy with, and jumped back into the fray.

_Don't kill the boys_ , Pansy begged. _Harry's right to aim to stun, they're young, they don't know any better._

"They're old enough to learn," Stella argued, swinging her sword out in a circle to clear the area. Several boys jumped back, stumbling as they ran into other cultists. She felt as if she were being swarmed by cicadas. "You bunch picked the _wrong_ ghosts to mess with!"

One attempted to charge back at her, but a different robed figure reached out and tripped him before he could succeed. Then lowered his hood to reveal a familiar face. "Aww Ger, you hunk," Stella winked at him as he bent down and dragged the knocked out boy to the wall and out of harm's way.

It went on like that for another minute, Gus at her back with Neville's wand and Pansy's guards doing their best to clear the room when that big voice rang out again. "MS. PARKINSON!" it shouted loud enough to catch her attention.

_Oh Goddesses!_

"Calm yourself, Pansy," Stella gasped for air as she looked across the room and saw what Arkin had done. He had a firm grip in Mattie's hair, his wand in the other hand, keeping Mattie contained though she tried her best to break free. "He wouldn't dare…"

Except as Stella panted from exertion, Gus fighting at her back, a brawl all around them, Arkin lifted that wand and sent sparks point blank, hitting Mattie in the back of her head. Mattie's eyes rolled heaven forward as she fell to the ground without moving.


	51. Chapter 51

"Doing it with my hands means it'll last longer, it'll look better, and it feels _better_ to make. I can't really explain it, but it's satisfying and real and my passion. I love it." - _Pansy to Neville one morning over breakfast, their toes rubbing together._

The pain coupled with being trapped in her own body sent a scream potent enough that even Stella felt its effects. She dropped to her knees with a painful grunt, sword bouncing away, as Pansy's grief nearly blinded her.

"Shh, baby girl," Stella tried to soothe but Pansy was literally lost. "Keep it together, we gotta get through this…"

But all she could hear was Pansy's despair.

Gus dragged Stella back up onto her feet, to keep fighting, but Stella felt Pansy clawing back to the surface. Her anger and grief too much to be stamped down by Stella…

"No wait—Pansy—stop, let me keep fightin'!" Stella shouted out as she lost control. Gus dragged her behind the altar but Hart appeared, wand in hand and immediately engaged Gus.

Stella fell into the floor and put her back to the altar, trying to keep control. "Pansy let me fight! I'm better at it than you, let me fight!" she begged loudly, clawing at her hair. "Let me… fight… for you..."

Gus meanwhile deflected spell after spell as Hart went on the aggressive. He switched from nonverbal spells to shouting half way through, when Gus proved to be too skilled for him. But Gus was also fighting off other cultists plus Hart, and soon found himself disarmed.

Greenish ribbons shot through the air and landed right on Gus's face, dispersing his disguise and causing him to stumble back and roll into the crowd. Quickly, he pushed himself back up and fought off several robed figures to get back to Stella. He found Wayne, bleeding from the lip and outnumbered, a stolen wand in his hand. Gus tackled the nearest cultist, wrestling him for a wand as Wayne Stunned the other two.

An elbow went into his nose and caused blood to fly everywhere, but he wrapped his arm around the cultist's neck and squeezed until the boy passed out from lack of air. Gus scooped up the wand and turned just as a scream shouted out. Gus rushed back to the altar, finding Hart had turned his wand on Stella, hand buried in Pansy's long black hair, forcing her up to her feet roughly. The movement popped the top two buttons of her shirt as she struggled, eyes shimmering between green and silver like light reflecting off water.

"Stella!" he shouted, rushing forward, wand pointed straight ahead.

Except those eyes solidified into pure molten silver… and more… the kind of grief that changes a person. Pansy screamed, her voice pure and piercing. It sent the crowd into stumble, people dropping to their knees to cover their ears. Wandless, Pansy brought her arm up and connected an elbow to Hart's nose. Then she stomped on his toe, still screaming, and grabbed his wand when he went to drop it.

Classic Stella move, done by Pansy flawlessly.

Turning, chest heavy with misery and Stella a quiet voice at the back of her mind, Pansy searched for Arkin and found him stalking towards Hannah Abbott, who was fighting off several cultists at once.

_You can do it, honey! You can, I promise you, you can!_ Stella's voice was lost underneath her pain.

Gus, whose disguise had faded until he looked like Neville again, rammed into Hart while the man was struggling and Pansy used the reprieve to dash forward towards Arkin.

The man who killed Mattie.

She was still screaming. It hurt too much to do anything else. And now the creep who had the money and status enough to convince a bunch of teenagers to stalk and harm her for years was turning his sights onto Hannah?

Neville's best friend?

Pansy loved him… the last thing she wanted was for him to feel what she was feeling just then. So she kept running, pushing through the battle, dodging spells and swings and anyone with a red cultist robe until she had a clear line of sight of Arkin as he crept along the room's edge, dead set and sight on Hannah.

"No!" she screeched as he raised his wand. And Pansy threw herself between them, her hands coming up instinctively. Sickly green flashed and collided with Pansy and sent her tumbling through the air, high above heads, until she crashed hard into Hannah and they both rolled into the wall.

"Oh! Pansy!" Hannah screamed, wrapping one arm around Pansy, the other throwing shields up to deflect a stray spell. She pulled Pansy's head into her lap. "What did you do?! What did you do!?"

She expected to be dead. The Killing Curse recognizable by that green flash. Why wasn't she dead?

_You remember what I said now, Pansy Parkinson… promise me you'll marry that stud Neville Longbottom and you two live a life worth living… for me and Gus_ …

"I promise," Pansy coughed, throat sore from screaming.

Across the room Neville fell to his knees, his hands loosening from Hart's neck, a sudden quiet in his head as he gained control of his body back. "Gus?" he panted, disorientated and vision fuzzy.

_See you around, Chump_ , fluttered across his mind before his eyes focused again. _Don't mess this up_...

"Pansy?" he jumped up, clutching onto his head like it might roll away. He quickly looked around and zeroed in on Arkin, standing over Pansy and Hannah with a wand trained dead on them. "HELL NO!"

He couldn't believe Pansy had thrown herself in front of danger like that! What was she thinking?! Where had Gus gone?! He stumbled over to help but tripped when a hand wrapped around an ankle. He turned over and saw Hart, sweating and hostile, pulling him back with exhausted strength.

Neville lifted his other leg and jammed the heel of his foot right into the man's nose, feeling exhausted himself. Hart threw a hand over his now bleeding nose. Neville had nothing as he stood up, no weapons and no wand. So he reached forward and grabbed onto Hart's robes and spun around, throwing him with all his remaining energy—right into Arkin.

The two flew into the wall.

Pansy looked down at her hands, still raised defensively in front of her, sobbing and screaming at the same time with Hannah hugging her from behind. "You saved me, Pansy," Hannah was also crying. "You saved me."

But they killed Mattie and… as she watched the silver and gold chain link bracelet around her wrist all detached from one another at the same time, shattering and falling to the ground.

"Noo," Pansy was screaming again, diving after the broken links, hands scattering the metal across the floor. "Stella! Stella come back! I want you to have your reunion! I want you and Gus to be together!"

Hot, ugly tears fell down her cheeks as a dark, insidious looking smoke rose from the chains swirling up in a vortex until it all gathered with a thundering boom, until it dissipated into the air with a second, final boom that knocked anyone in the room still on their feet to the ground.

Neville went down on his knees, his own bracelet scattering to join the pieces from Pansy's bracelet.

Pansy's heartbreak was final. She felt Beau Bohnefeld's bitter resentment for his daughter. She felt the ache of Stella and Gus's love. Two-fold, she felt their everlasting need to be with one another and knew it would never happen now. She felt her own grief for Mattie wash over her all over again when she looked up and found Arkin, blood dripping from his eyebrow and he attempted to get himself and Hart up to their feet.

They had rolled to a stop by the door, which swung open and spit out a very disgruntled looking Hugh Higgly-Hughes. The three men who without none of this would have happened.

"Where the hell are my diamonds, bitch?" he shouted, stumbling into Arkin, who stumbled into Hart.

"Diamonds?" Arkin scoffed. "Forget the diamonds, kill that _witch_!"

Pansy used her remaining energy and rolled up to her knees, grabbing a wand that had been kicked in front of her. Then she stood up, face wet, body aching, heart broken, and lifted her wand.

Gerry's words whispered across her mind. ' _Next time you get the chance, say the first spell that comes to mind. No thinking, just act on instinct. You can do this, Pansy. You will make it out of this._ '

The first spell that came to mind. It wasn't a curse. It wasn't defensive. It was the animation spell she used to bring her stained glass to life. To take it from an ordinary stained glass window to a living, moving piece of art. " _VIVUDUS OPUS_!" she shouted with everything she had left in her.

The usual white wisps she was so used to burst from her wand like a steam geyser, far more potent than ever in her life, springing forward on her intention and barreling straight into Arkin, Hart, and Hugh.

They all screamed, pain suspending the three mid action as the bottoms of their feet turned into a wide, iron base. The spell worked upwards, flattening them into glass, up and up, over their legs, over their torsos, up to their heads and cutting off their screams as the window continued to form into a large ogee arch of iron and colorful glass.

It didn't move like her art. They were still.

Trapped, as stained glass, together, and in pain. Three men, in mulberry red, brought together in their hatred and greed. Pansy stumbled forward toward the window, seeing the look of anguish on all three of their faces. She raised her fists and started beating at the window, screaming.

For Wayne's family being kidnapped. For years of harassment and pain. For Mattie and Stella and Gus and whoever else died that night. It hurt so badly, but after the fourth punch the glass finally shattered, glass cutting into her skin.

It fell to the ground in pieces the same way her bracelet did.


	52. Chapter 52

"Why did she jump in front of me like that? She doesn't even know me... how can I ever repay her for saving my life?" - _Hannah to Susan over the biggest glass of wine in the entire world._

A week later and Pansy found herself at breakfast with Mattie.

Who had a bandage wrapped around her head instead of her usual colorful ribbon. For once, Pansy was the one taking care of Mattie. She set a big breakfast of bacon, potato cakes, mixed fruit, toast with blueberry jam, and sausage patties in front of the grumpy, battered witch.

"I don't need your god damn help, Parkinson," she growled, but reached for the toast first. As Pansy thought. The Jam always won.

"I made breakfast. It's for you and for me. Eat it or don't," Pansy sneered like she wasn't pleased. She could deal with Mattie's hostility and bitterness at needing assistance all day, every day. She could _not_ deal with Mattie being gone from her life.

"I wish you would leave, go get nasty with Longbottom," Mattie said, talking with her mouth full. "It might put you in a decent mood."

It was true. She'd been in a terrible mood all week. Emotionally... she was a huge, damn mess.

As Stella might've said.

Pansy wouldn't know, because the moment Arkin's curse had hit her bracelet, he'd inadvertently broken the curse and set Stella and Gus free. Pansy was alone in her head and convinced that everything that happened that night, Mattie's injury included, was her fault.

Her hands and arms were still healing from glass shards that had cut the skin, and a Healer at St. Mungo's had fixed a broken rib, but otherwise, physically, she was fine. It was that mood of hers. She was all over the place.

For avoiding Neville. And healing the aches and pains in her body. Lots of cuts and bruises after the night she spent at The Brotherhood. But worse was missing the ghost that once inhabited her body.

Maybe she felt more 'normal' now that there wasn't another soul attached to her, no other voice in her head, but it felt like she lost a family member. And if she had lost both Stella and Mattie, Pansy wasn't sure what she would've done.

"You're grouchy," Mattie sneered right back. "Please, finish your damn art project taking up all my space and go see Longbottom. You miss him. It's not fucking rocket science."

"I don't want to see him," Pansy lied, chewing on her own bacon. Did he still love her? Now that Gus was gone did he still feel the same? Was he angry with her for staying away all week? "Maybe at the meeting."

The meeting that was later today. Where the fates of dozens and dozens of boys was in her hands and where Draco planned to sue every last Higgly-Hugh for every last gold piece they had.

"If he comes to my door again, I'm letting him in. I don't give a fu-"

"Mattie," Pansy interrupted. "I'm sorry I've been taking up your space. And I'm sorry you got hurt because of me."

"Not. Your. Damn. Blubbering. Again." Mattie glared, pointing a butter knife dipped in jam right in her face. "You've released me from your employ, which means I could kill you if I so see fit."

"Go ahead," Pansy dared her, biting into her toast. "Not the first time someone's tried to kill me. Nor will it stop me from coming back as a ghost to haunt you every time you smoke either."

Mattie mumbled, stuffing her mouth full of food, eyes pointedly not looking at her. So far, Pansy had thrown away three new packs. And she wasn't afraid to keep it up. She would have beaten Mattie up with the backside of her skillet, except Mattie was still recovering and Pansy didn't want to add to her pain. No matter how much Mattie groaned and moaned.

"Maybe later. You should give it to him today. As an apology for avoiding him all damn week."

She meant Neville. It wasn't that he had done anything wrong. In fact, having had the downtime to think about it, Pansy was pretty sure she was the luckiest witch on the planet. Neville went above and beyond to help her that night, and even before. Letting her stay at his house for so long just to keep her safe.

Things had changed though. Pansy was positive she could keep herself safe. It had taken her a full week to realize it. To identify the sudden change in her emotions. She knew Stella had left a big hole in her heart, but what that hole hid was the lack of fear she felt for the first time in so many years.

Pansy wasn't afraid any longer.

Her reputation was dismal, had been since she was 18. Now it was twice as bad, but people were terrified of her. Not vengeful. And as long as they left her alone, she was fine with them thinking she was a dark witch. Maybe she _was_ a dark witch. She murdered three wizards with a simple Animation Spell.

"You're going to see him anyways, at the meeting," Mattie continued, telling her what she knew already. "Men need gentling. Give it to him beforehand, it'll make the meeting go better."

"Getting hit in the head did not improve your personality one bit," Pansy muttered.

Mattie chewed loudly. "What's your excuse?"

An hour later and Pansy was the one searching for Neville. The poor guy had been looking for her all week. She found him where her house once stood, a ruin of burnt wood and foundation. But the window that had once been in her bedroom stood without a single mark on it. A slow moving oak tree that towered over his head.

Neville didn't notice her right away. He wondered if the worst had happened. Gus and Stella gone… and maybe the love went with them as Pansy thought it would.

Not on his end. His uncle Algie liked to say that absence made the heart grow fonder. Well a week away from Pansy and he was ready to shove cookies in his mouth and cry for an hour while listening to Fleetwood Mac like the sap he truly was.

Neville was standing directly in front of Pansy's masterpiece, the summer sun on his neck and wind blowing through the surrounding trees when she spoke up.

"Sad isn't it?" she said in that odd way of hers, head tilted to the side. Wearing a solid purple dress he wanted to put his hands on. "A true testament to an artist's talent, if the work is still around long after she's gone."

" _You_ are not gone, Pancake," he argued, quite upset to hear such a thing.

With a giant sigh, Pansy agreed. "I'm not gone. I'm going to my big meeting at The Ministry, to confront the remaining… kids… and-" she pasted on an accent. "To sue to hell outta those Higgly-Hughes."

He tried to laugh. It was dead on, that accent.

She continued in her normal voice. "I have something for you."

A gift? A present? He didn't want anything. He wanted _her_. "Where have you been?"

"Mattie's."

"I knew it," he shouted, kicking at a broken, burnt piece of wood. "Knew she lied to me. Hate that witch."

"Are you finished, Nev?" Pansy snapped. "Matt is my friend, my dearest friend."

He turned to face her, knowing full well his frustration came from _up_ and disappearing for a week and not that Mattie had lied to protect a friend. He would have 100% done the same. And they never really resolved their fight last week either. Too much happened right after.

"That's why you threw yourself in front of Hannah, because she's _my_ dearest friend," Neville said, voice cracking from the emotion of it. The woman he loved had been willing to die for his friend. He didn't even know how to repay her.

Pansy nodded, trying not to remember. It didn't work. That Mattie ended up being okay didn't erase what happened. "I don't really want to talk about that night too much, not before the meeting…"

She looked down and seemed to contemplate something, swaying side to side while she bit down on her lip. Looking cute as hell. "Will you… go with me?"

"To the Ministry? Of course, Pancake. Why wouldn't I?" He knew how much she hated that place.

"I don't know, because I lost track of time," she started playing with her dress, unable to look him in the eye. "I didn't _mean_ to disappear for a week. I told you… I have something for you, won't you come see it with me, Neville?"

The way she said it... Neville laughed, hard. He was a goner. He was sunk. He was head over heels. Gus and all his influence was gone from his head for a full week now. Neville couldn't be more certain of his feelings.

"You know I'm like, stupid in love with you right? Remember that whole conversation we had?" he asked, pointing between them.

"I remember," she said evenly, eyes shining.

"And you remember that I'm basically a huge sucker? So I'll pretty much do anything you ask?" he continued, trying to rile her up. Looking for any sign of emotion. "Anything."

"I do recall you being a huge sucker," she said. Then a very slow grin appeared on her face, followed by a small laugh that only got bigger when he joined in. "Well, Mr. I'll do anything for you, I'd really like you to see what I did before we talk."

"Yeah," he smiled, taking her held out arm. He put something in her hand. Mattie's glass!

"Where did you..."

"Gus and Hugh found it in the basement at The Brotherhood, that's how they knew which direction you had gone."

"It worked... Mattie got it for me in case I was ever in danger... and it helped save us all."

"Great, I'm indebted to _Matt_."

Elbowing him, Pansy smiled but before they could take each other's arms, a third voice called out. "Ms. Parkinson!"

Pansy turned and found Mrs. Grant slowly approaching the ruins of the burnt house, looking around with shocked eyes. She stopped where the front door once was and just gasped. "What happened, Ms. Parkinson?!"

"Hello Mrs. Grant," Pansy called in a friendly manner, nudging Neville. She whispered to him, "That's the witch who sent me the bracelet."

"Oh, snap," he said, following her as she walked up and greeted Mrs. Grant cordially.

"House fire," Pansy informed in a sad tone. "But no one was hurt."

Mrs. Grant's mouth dropped open for three whole seconds before she went off. Pansy caught most of it. The witch had been out of country for two months because her cousin was sick with some kind of blood disease and there was no one to take care of their grandmother who was fragile and elderly and apparently a giant pain the behind in her old age. Her travel plans had been canceled twice, causing a massive headache and delaying her return which meant she received Pansy's inquiries about the bracelet much later than intended.

The woman literally ran herself out of breath. Then she said, "I hate to admit this, but I... I..."

Pansy braced for the worst. Did she know the item was cursed? Did she know the story behind them? And, as she recalled from her and Nev's trip to Diagon Alley, how did she get it from Max Ruth?

"Go on, Mrs. Grant," Pansy encouraged, wanting the whole story.

"I... regifted to you..." she flushed with embarrassment. "The bracelet was originally a gift from a witch in my knitting club. Maxxie is a doll, but I don't wear hard metals and she knows it! Phew."

Maxxie...? Max Ruth?

The witch panted for a second, catching her breath. "I'm sorry, Ms. Parkinson. I just thought it would be an easy way to show my appreciation for how much I love that window piece you did for my family room. It was worth every piece of gold I spent on it."

Stepping forward, Pansy wrapped the woman in a hug. "Mrs. Grant? All is well. Thank you for coming out and being honest with me. I'm glad your cousin is feeling better."

That shot the witch off all over again. _Damn Cancer_! She spoke at length for another 15 minutes, without pause and without asking a single question. Beside her Neville was stunned into stillness, watching Mrs. Grant go. Pansy kept waiting for her to come up for air but somehow she just. Kept. Going.

Finally, Pansy looked at her watch. If she wanted enough time to show Neville the surprise she made for him, she was going to have end the conversation, but Mrs. Grant showed no signs of stopping. "Mrs. Grant!" she shouted.

"Oh! Bother me, I'm sorry dear, I get going, you _have_ to stop me—"

"Mrs. Grant," Pansy held her hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry but I have to get a meeting at the Ministry. How would you like to have tea next week? We can catch up properly."

It took another five minutes but finally, Pansy gripped Neville's arm firmly and took her wand out, which had been found and returned to her, before Apparating them away. "We're not going to Mattie's by the way."

"Thank the Goddesses," Neville teased. "For that and for the end of that conversation."

"She's sweet!" Pansy argued. "If it weren't for her and for Hannah, we wouldn't have been..."

"Cursed?" Neville bumped her gently.

Smiling, she took them to Longbottom Keep. "I brought it over earlier, but you weren't here. Which is ironic because I couldn't find you when you've been looking for me all week. By the way I've made like 1,000 jars of jam out of pure stress. Matt is definitely ready for me to get my place back…"

"You're more than welcome to come stay with me," he said with a smile that melted her insides.

Neville followed her into the house, their fingers intertwined as she led him, and all the way to the formal living room. The one he painted last week. Instead of Gran's favored plaid and hunter green, he tore out the carpet with every intention of finishing the hardwood floors, and painted the walls a rich cream.

She stopped right before they entered the room. "Maybe I do want to talk about one thing first," she admitted with a nervous hand gesture. She took several deep breaths. "You know usually, I'm not so worried about my work but… if you don't like it, I understand. You won't hurt my feelings if you hate it…"

"Hate what? Did you paint?" he asked excitedly, pushing forward. "Let me see!"

She turned the knob and opened the door for him, where he rushed into the room and skidded to a stop in front of a giant stained glass window. It floated, suspended by magic mid air. And promptly made him lose his breath.

"This is to make up for me breaking your plaque," she said, standing right beside him. Painting the eyes had been her favorite part. "Since you said it didn't mean anything to you, I gave up on trying to fix the crack—and since I've been in a weird, depressive state this last week decided this might be more your style…"

"I..." Neville suddenly felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Um... how much would you charge for a piece like this?"

Pansy frowned. That wasn't the response she was expecting. Wringing her wrists, she considered his question very carefully and found she couldn't lie to him. A week of nonstop work on a window that was nearly ten feet tall... "10,000...ish?"

He gasped so hard he started coughing.

"Oh Goddesses! Nev," she patted his back as he coughed and sputtered until his face turned red.

"Ga-galleons?"

"Yes," she answered, because she had to. "I'm not charging you, why do you look so worried?"

"You should," he finally caught his breath, voice husky from all the coughing. "It's so..."

"The Brotherhood... that couldn't be the last glass I made, I had to do something new," she admitted, hand still on his back. "I did it from memory, so it might be off..." She started rubbing up and down, hoping the motion would soothe him. And also because she wanted to touch him.

"It feels like I'm looking at the picture, Pancake, what are you talking about?" he pulled her into a side hug, squeezing so tight she squeaked. He didn't loosen his grip though. "I love it."

"Good. In your case, I'm willing to accept monthly payments." Pansy laughed when he started coughing again.

Getting himself under control, Neville watched Pansy stepped forward, lifting her wand. She installed the window into the frame in a steady, no nonsense manner. His parents waved down at him after it was done. Smiling warmly and holding on to each other just like they did in the photo he kept of them up in his room. This was the way he _chose_ to remember his parents and Pansy had taken his beloved memory and turned it into a light filled stained window. The details dead on.

"I didn't mean to avoid you," she told him after a few minutes. "I just got caught up in painting and... I think when Stella left... I think she took some part of me with her..."

"The love?" he asked, feeling unsure.

"No," she bit down on her lip and turned so they faced each other. "You?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "Hell no."

"Come to the meeting with me? Afterwards, I want to... I want to be alone with you."

"Let's go, Pancake."


	53. Chapter 53

"You can get even... or you could get _everything_." - _Stella to Pansy the day Harry questioned Ted Heathers._

She listened to Harry explain things to her. Arkin didn't really give a crap about her. It wasn't personal. The boys he housed and indoctrinated were paying him monthly. Mostly via their parents. It was a nice way to get the kids out of the house apparently. And a lucrative way to make money.

The Brotherhood of the Chosen was a god damn summer camp. Rallying them up against her had been an _easy_ sell. Harry Potter's villain? The girl who tried to sell Harry out to the Dark Lord? Let's send her cursed trinkets and bloody animal parts to torment her in the name of The Boy Who Lived.

"He didn't have any kin, no kids or relatives," Harry told her about Arkin. "The Ministry has seized his assets."

"Of course they did," Pansy frowned. She hated this place. All she could think of was her father and being carted around the Ministry from office to office trying to get answers that never came. She'd been so young and hadn't known the right questions to ask.

Though... Worse than the memories of her father's passing was seeing the boys. None were younger than 15. All lined up and crowding the entire floor with their parents or guardians. There was a lot of yelling and confusion and they all seemed... so innocent. Was she old enough to call out youth misguided? Pansy didn't know how to feel. She stood with Harry by his office door and watched it with fascination. None of them would meet Neville's eyes and they looked downright terrified when they saw her.

Unfortunately, it gave her no pleasure.

"They've all confirmed it was Arkin and Hart running the show. As both men are dead, the threat against you is over. Then, I used a little mojo to make sure The Brotherhood of the Chosen cannot come back."

How long had she been waiting to hear that?

"How?" she asked, not quite believing it.

"I uh..." Harry's cheeks went bright red. "I'm the leader now. And as the leader, I officially disbanded the group. The rest are just... kids. There's a few older than school age, like Ted Heathers was. It ended up being like a summer retreat and some never outgrew it."

"Sounds so... pathetic when you put it like that. I hired guards, enchanted and warded my home, against... kids... bored kids?" she pushed her hair out of the way and thought about Stella and Gus. Their one chance to reunite, and it was interrupted by The Brotherhood.

"I know I caused a lot of trouble when I was a kid," Harry offered and it made Neville laugh.

The sound jovial and lovely, lifting her spirits. Maybe it work out for them. She caught his eye and smiled, to show she was tough enough to handle it.

"Ultimately, you are the aggrieved, Pans," Harry patted her hand to show support. "Their fates are in your hands."

"The leader is dead," Pansy said, thinking out loud. It didn't give her joy, but it did give her relief. Like a chapter of her life ending... when the next was to begin. "That Hart guy is dead. Hugh is dead and..."

They all cringed as a round of yelling broke out in the room next door. Where Draco Malfoy was flaying the Higgly-Hughes legal representatives alive with Hermione by his side. It wasn't Pansy's fault the Brotherhood decided to kidnap the wealthy, powerful Malfoy scion. And Hermione was loyal to Neville.

The two sharks were circling and she felt no sympathy whatsoever for Hugh's family.

Because Hugh was the worse offender in Pansy's opinion. He joined out of callous boredom, with the intent to harm her. He hurt her guards and used intimate knowledge to kidnap Pansy from her home. A home he then burned down.

"I think I know what I want," she told them. Neville and Harry followed her as she stood up and made their way to the next room. Most of the boys all looked up, then quickly down. Cheeks turning red as their parents stood up, ready to defend their babes against her.

No-good Pansy Parkinson. The witch who sold out Harry Potter and murdered three wizards.

Except she didn't care anymore. Thinking Mattie died was the worst hour of her life. Finding out she would make it only made her cry harder because she realized Mattie had become family when Pansy wasn't paying attention. The rough, mouthy big sister Pansy never had and definitely needed.

It changed her. She wasn't sure if it was for the better or worse yet. Having family to fight for was a new experience.

"Anyone 18 and younger I want volunteering for the rest of the summer. At the hospital, parks, senior care, wherever."

"18? Not... 17? We're considered adults at 17, Pansy," Harry shook his head.

Pansy held her hand out when most of the parents started shouting.

"I was 18 when I said what I said," she reminded him, loud enough for the room to hear. And no one had to guess what she meant. "Because of that, the Ministry took my home from me. They took all my father's gold. My mother's jewelry. I had nothing of my parents and I had no one to stand up for me... I'll stand up for them now."

Pansy panned across the entire room, meeting the surprised gazes of the boys. Along the back wall were her friends and former guards, here to show support. Susan and Hannah, Nev's best friends. Gerry with his arms crossed, looking stoic as ever. Mattie smacking gum angrily, a bright green ribbon in her hair. Wayne and his family, all safe now. She held the silence for a full minute before she said, "And if any of them have information that can help in my case against the Higgly-Hughes, I won't press charges against the older members."

They all rushed to their feet, raising their hands and shouting. The entire room a dazzle of chaos. And it was then and there she felt the first wisps of pleasure from the whole situation.

oOo

A few hours later and the whole group stood together out in the hallway by the elevator. The Higgly-Hughes agreed to settle. Pansy didn't care about the money. Once the figures came in, she was dividing it evenly 3 ways between Mattie, Ger, and Wayne for their years of service to her and her home.

Hannah was cuddled up to Gerry, trying to provoke a response from him. So far, he remained unmoved, but Pansy saw the tiniest hint of a smile. She'd known him the longest so she knew what to look for. It made her smile. If Gerry didn't want to be flirted with, he would have done something about it. That he remained quiet spoke the loudest.

Harry stood with Hermione, talking to Susan and Mattie while Ginny, Wayne, his wife, and the baby stood with her and Neville.

Neville, who sneakily wrapped an arm around her waist while she pretended not to notice. But it felt right, felt like she fit perfectly in his arms.

"Will you rebuild the house?" Jules asked, bouncing the baby.

"I think I'm going to go stay with a friend for now," Pansy answered coyly, bumping Neville's hip with her own.

"That friend happily accepts," he said quickly, breaking out into a mesmerizing smile. They chatted for a bit longer before Neville pulled her aside, unable to help himself. It seemed everything else melted away. "Our last kiss got interrupted, would you care to try again?"

Part of her wished to hear Stella shouting _Hallelujah_! Cheering her on and begging for a intimate moment with Neville and Gus. But Pansy realized she didn't need Stella to provide enough courage to do just that. She wanted it all on her own. Rising up on her toes she pressed a sweet and slow kiss into Neville's lips, happy when he responded with matching energy. A gentle, loving kiss that reminded her the two of them made a good match.

They were lucky the bracelets found their way to them, and not someone else. Maybe it was meant to be.

When Pansy pulled back, barely taming the urge to jump his bones right then, Neville blinked several times as if in a daze before he gave a nervous laugh. "So how did Pancake and I get to be such good friends?"

"Oh you know," Pansy shrugged. "Got possessed by two ghosts, forced to live together, sort of... fell in love."

Neville's eyes lit up as he wrapped her in another hug, their foreheads pressing together. "Gus told me not to wait."

"Stella did the same," she told him, her heart suddenly racing.

"And I definitely don't want to wait," he told her honestly, gulping. "All our friends are here, we could go up to the 2nd floor and get a marriage license right now."

"Yes," she nodded right away. "I promised Stella I would marry you."

Her golden-eyed man tightened his hold on her with his bear arms and swung her around, cheering loud enough to catch the attention of all their friends. He kept shouting for joy, which made Pansy laugh with him. "We're getting married! We're getting married!" he shouted.

There were gasps all around and Mattie rolled her eyes so hard she aggravated her head injury. But it was Hannah who stepped forward, looking between Neville and Pansy with big brown eyes. Neville's smile disappeared all together, his need to not hurt Hannah clashing badly with his even bigger need to start his life with Pansy. To love her and fulfill his own promise to Gus.

"Banana..."

But Hannah only smiled, turning towards Pansy. "Susan and I can help you find a dress."

Shaking her head, Pansy said, "No time. We're doing this now. Everyone up to the 2nd floor."

"We can do it now!" Hannah insisted, turning around. "Susie!"

"Two shakes of a wand, for sure," Susan stepped forward, finger coming up to her chin. "Banana and I tinkered with fashion charms a _lot_ in school. What do you envision your wedding dress looking like?"

"Oh!" Pansy reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the photo of Stella and Gus she'd been carrying around. The one with Stella in the black wiggle dress and dramatic gloves. "Like this... but maybe in white?"

Hannah tugged Neville's arm. "You! Go upstairs and get the process started and Susie and I will escort your wife when she's ready. And you," she pushed Harry and Ginny after him. "You two get him presentable. Seriously! Nev, brush your damn beard."

"Yes, Banana," but he wrapped her in a hug first. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear.

"You're welcome, Nevvy," she winked and then patted his bum. "Get going."

Then she turned on Pansy.

Who had a sudden thought. "I know what your band name should be. Coup De Grâce. Because you, Susie, and Mattie came together in the final moments and helped end the threat against my life."

Even Mattie nodded with approval. Susan and Hannah high-fived. "It's perfect. And you're now a full fledged member. Now, give us a twirl baby, we're transforming this dress."

Laughing, the two witches cast with their wands and turned her plain purple dress into a white wiggle dress. It cinched in on Pansy's hips, the length shortening until it stopped above her knees. The sleeves slid off her shoulders and turned to lace.

"It's cute with your boots," Hannah grinned.

"Anyone have a pair of gloves?" Susie called.

"Oh, I do!" Jules said, passing the baby over to Wayne. Then she dug through her purse and pulled out a pair of woolen gloves.

"Perfect," Susie winked again and then focused.

Before Pansy's very eyes the plain gloves turned into elegant satin gloves that she pulled on up to her elbows. It wasn't exactly like the picture of Stella. The shoulders were lacy and the neckline not nearly as low. But it fit her style.

Mattie then walked before her, pulling the emerald green ribbon from her hair. "Turn around, Parkinson. I'll do the hair."

"Aww Mattie, are your eyes looking a little wet?" she teased as she turned away.

"It's allergy season, you dumb witch," Mattie growled, brushing her fingers through Pansy's hair softly despite her harsh tone.

"Of course it is," Pansy said, winking at Wayne and Jules. "'Allergies'."

Everyone laughed and Hannah came around to kneel before her, straightening out the hem of her dress. "It's beautiful," she said, sounding a little weepy herself. "I love wedding dresses!"

"I hope this okay with you," Pansy found herself feeling wary. The last thing she wanted to do was get between Hannah and Neville.

"If anyone _isn't_ okay with it, you let me know straight away," Hannah said with a wide smile. The two witches could not be more different. She was all sunshine and easy-going smiles, while Pansy felt like she'd been in a coma her entire adult life.

But Hannah continued on without pause, standing up and licking her thumb. She pulled strands of Pansy's hair from either side of her head, twirling it until it bounced beside her face. "I haven't seen Nev this happy in awhile. It might not be you," Hannah teased. "It might be the jam."

"It's definitely the jam," Pansy laughed. After all, her and Mattie were nothing alike, and the two of them were practically sisters. Maybe she could get along with Hannah just fine too.

"This is getting distinctly too sappy for me now," Mattie let everyone know. "And this is the best I can do with your wretched hair."

"I'm sure it looks great," Pansy deadpanned. "Oh Mattie, you are crying!"

"No I'm not! You are! Ugh!" And Mattie rushed towards the elevator. "Let's go, don't want to be late to your own wedding, Parkinson!"

Upstairs, Neville shrugged into the spare button up Harry had in his office while Ginny used a summoned brush to make Neville's hair look at least halfway decent. Running the thick bristles through his beard while Harry helped fill out the paperwork. The officiant behind the desk seemed bored as he pulled out parchment after parchment. "And this one... and this one..."

"You sure about this, Nevvy?" Ginny asked while Harry hastily filled out forms, asking questions he should have known the answer to.

"Wait your middle name is Ellery?" Harry scratched his head. "I never knew that..."

"Idiot," Ginny smiled.

"Yes," Neville nodded, happy to see his friends were still happy after being married for years. "I've never been more certain about anything in my life."

"I think you might be brain damaged, but then again, you've always been a bit loony," Ginny stepped back and tilted her head, trying to figure out what he needed. "Ah."

She summoned a tie and wrapped it around his neck, knotting it before he could admit he didn't know how himself. "Thanks Gin."

"You're welcome, _recluse_."

"Not anymore," Neville laughed. Hard.

And that was the moment Pansy and the rest of the group came off the elevator. Bright silver eyes met his and Neville's heart immediately starting thumping at twice the speed. "Let's do this!"

"Wait, wait wait," the officiant stopped them. "You have refill all these forms out, I can't read a thing."

"Damn it Harry!" Ginny shouted. "Your handwriting is worse than a drunken baby seal trying to write his name!"


	54. Chapter 54

"See? I look just like her. I used to hate him for the way he treated me as I grew up, but imagine being reminded of the thing you loved most in the world, and lost, every single day? I forgave him a long time ago." - _Pansy trying to console Draco on the imprisonment of his father_.

Neville took Pansy's hand in his own and held it tenderly, his fingers brushing over her knuckles softly. The green ribbon in her hair made him smile, it brought out the silver of her eyes. But more, he loved how happy she looked.

Not scared.

Not intimidated.

She was excited and all the more beautiful for it.

He was so busy getting lost in her smile he completely missed whatever she said to him.

"Nev?"

"Sorry," he felt his cheeks heat up. "I'm suddenly so excited my ears aren't working. What did you say?"

"Should we wait for your Gran?" she tugged on his hands. "Do you think she wants to be here for this?"

"Let's..." he hummed, considering it. He was ready to go, to get married. The officiant was there. The majority of their friends were there. And his Gran and Erasmus would probably spend the entire time finding things to complain about. They had that in common at least. Happy together in misery. "Let me introduce you to my Gran later—like _after_ I get you a ring."

So she couldn't give him shite for getting married without bands.

"You don't have to. The ring I mean," she smiled. "Maybe just a lot of glass."

There was a chorus of laughs from their friends.

"I'll get you whatever you want."

"Don't say that. That's a promise I might make you keep."

"Good," he tugged her hands. "You better."

They got so lost in teasing one another they missed when the officiant came back. He held a red velvet altar cloth, one white candle, a small white clay bowl, and a plain brown box.

"Pick your ribbon while I set up the altar," the officiant told them, lighting the candle with a stubby wand.

Neville let go of her hands only for a moment to open the box for her inspection. Making it feel like a treat. "I see one with flowers," he smiled at her. He had about a million plans to shower her in as many flowers as he could find and grow.

"Ahh but what about this one?" she smiled back at him—they couldn't stop doing that!—and pulled out a braided ribbon of silver and gold.

"It's perfect." Like their bracelets.

"Good God," Mattie groaned loudly. "How is this not over yet? Aren't elope _ments_... whatever—supposed to be quick?"

"Be quicker if you would shut it," Pansy rolled her eyes and handed the ribbon to the officiant. "We choose this one."

Candle lit, the officiant took the ribbon and frowned. "I forgot to ask which vows you wanted to use. I have a book. You can choose from pagan, handfasting, Celtic, Wiccan, witchery, Goblin, Catholic—"

"No!" Neville shouted, shaking his head. "Not Catholic, my Gran would kill me."

"And it takes _forever_ ," Mattie shouted.

Hannah elbowed her in the ribs. "Shush, Bubblegum!"

"Your sissy hits do nothing to me, Blondie."

"I meant it to be gentle, next one won't be," Hannah wrapped an arm around Mattie's shoulders, making her groan but she didn't get out of the hug either.

"Maybe we should all zip it so Pansy and her beau can get married now?" Draco suggested in a clipped tone.

"Great idea!" Neville told them before turning back to Pansy.

The officiant nodded. "Let me run and grab the book."

"Wait," Pansy held her hand to stop him before he left again. "I..." she turned to Neville. "My father used to tell me the story of when he married my mother. I remember her vows, if that's okay?"

"You go first, I'll be ready after you," he promised.

"Very well. Let's begin," the officiant lifted his wand and held his hand out. Pansy placed her hand in his, palm side up, and prepared herself. His wand cut a small line on the pad of her thumb and she pressed beneath it with her index finger, squeezing out a few drops of blood into the clay pot.

"Did it hurt?" Neville whispered sweetly as he wrapped fingers around her wrist.

She shook her head no, cheeks starting to ache from her smile, and held a breath as he pulled her forward, pressing his mouth over the small cut, licking over her tiny wound. His eyes never left hers, making warmth pool in her belly like wine pouring into a glass.

The officiant repeated the process on Neville, who squeezed two drops of blood into the clay pot while still holding Pansy's hand. Then he lifted his thumb to her lips, offering a taste in return. Smiling, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around his thumb without looking away.

His eyes blazed with heated gold.

The officiant said some words, but they weren't paying attention any longer. Their blood mixed together in the small clay bowl, a stubby wand waving above. As Pansy released Neville's thumb with soft lips their blood rose from the bowl as one connected stream and twined around the ribbon.

Their fingers folded together as the blooded ribbon bound them, starting at Neville's wrist and wrapping all the way around to Pansy's.

It seemed they breathed together, in sync, until they heard Harry clear his throat and Mattie made another groan of impatience.

"The vows?" the officiant raised his eyebrows. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Pansy squeezed Neville's fingers, recalling the story Tav Parkinson used to tell of a moonlit ceremony that happened long ago. One of the few stories she could convince him to share. "I promise to be honest with you and to trust you. I promise to support you here," she placed her right hand over his heart. "And here."

She lifted her fingers to his temple, brushing her thumb over his cheek. "I promise to listen to you and respect you. To laugh and play with you, to grow and bend with you. I promise to do this through whatever our life together brings us, good health or illness, riches or empty pockets, until the end of my days."

Neville let out a shuddering breath. "How am I supposed to follow that up, Pancake? You're putting me to shame."

"I don't know," she couldn't help but tease. "But it better be as good."

He tugged her a little closer, so lost in her eyes it was all he could see. "I vow to be with you, today and tomorrow... and all the tomorrows that follow. To cherish our friendship and be your partner, to love you faithfully, through the easy and the difficult times. I promise to do everything I can to make you as happy as you make me. I hope I wake up smelling paint and lemons every day, Pancake."

They smiled at each other, basking in each other's promises. Knowing deep down the vows they made would be kept.

"Not bad," she stepped even closer, until their fronts were pressed together, left hands still wrapped by their chosen ribbon. "But I knew you were just in it for the jam."

"Yeah. I'm here for the jam, you caught me," he grinned.

"You'll have to plant me a new lemon tree, so I can make more jam."

"I'll plant 100 of 'em," he promised. And pulled her in for a kiss, not content to wait for the officiant.

"I... uh... guess I pronounce you man and wife?" he stumbled out over the cheers erupted from their friends.

Pansy pulled back a moment, "Husband and wife," she corrected with a healthy flush in cheeks. "I'm a modern witch."

Neville nodded. "Agreed," then he pulled her back in for another, deeper kiss.

Their ribbon shimmered as the blood fully bonded to the rich fabric, and Pansy and Neville were locked in a devoted kiss when their magic collided.

.

The lot of them found their way to an all day breakfast place and pigged out. And when no one was looking, Hermione pulled a homemade jar of jam, made by Pansy, from her purse and sent everyone into a frenzy of laughter and cheers. Including Draco. Pansy predicted the control freak would be back to his not-so-cheery normal state after a few days and it seemed she was right.

He would bounce back. He always did.

And this time, so would she.

There was a lot of laughter at that breakfast. And a lot of pancakes.

Something about watching Neville eat the jam Pansy made gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. And a even bigger sense of hope for the future. She couldn't wait to eat a lot of breakfasts with Neville.

Afterwards he wrapped his arm around her neck and kissed her temple like he was ready to do the same thing a million times. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Yes," she loved the feeling of being cocooned in his arms. "Let's go _home_."

To Longbottom Keep. She was a Longbottom now.

"I have another idea," he whispered in her ear, his beard brushing against her neck and sending shivers down her spine.

"Yes?" she pressed kisses into his jaw, eyes feeling heavy. And not with sleep. "Do we need a get away?"

He hummed in pleasure, nuzzling the side of her face. "Hannah is good at causing a fuss."

"I know, she gave Erasmus a heart attack, remember?"

"Best day of my life," he laughed. "Er-until today of course."

"Of course." Pansy smirked, and pulled out the small piece of glass Mattie had given her. The one she thought useless when they'd been trapped at The Brotherhood. Of course, it worked out. When she lost a hold of it during the fight in dungeons, it had gone flying down the hallway, only to be later found by Gus, Neville, and Hugh.

Leading the men straight to her.

"Hey, Matt," she called, tossing it once she had her attention. "I won't be needing this anymore."

Catching it, Mattie groaned for the 500th time. "I suppose you think you're so cute."

"I think I'm lucky," she started slowly. "Unlike you. I see that pack hidden away in your pocket."

The entire table burst into chatter. Two groups forming. Matt and Susan vs. everyone else. Wayne and Gerry had to declare for Pansy, out of principle. It caused a loud enough fight that Neville and Pansy slipped away without anyone noticing.

Laughing, Neville tugged her away and down the street, pulling her into a secluded area. "I ordered a Portkey when we were at the Ministry earlier," he told her, pulling out a broken piece of leather from what must've been a wrist watch.

"You did plan a honeymoon!"

"I had a little help. Of the ghostly type."

"You mean...?"

Nodding, he revealed a wicked grin. "Trust me?"

"Yes," she pulled at his tie. "I vowed to, remember?"

"Good," he offered the Portkey. "Whenever you're ready, Pancake."

"I've never been anywhere besides home and school," she told him, hesitating slightly when she remembered his shelf of pictures, showing exactly how much time he spent seeing the world.

"And I've been traveling for years," he told her. "There's still a million places I haven't been. A million places I could take you to."

"Have you been where we're going?"

"No," he shook his head. "I don't think anyone has. Not in 50 years."

Reaching out her hand, Pansy hovered just over the Portkey. "This is going to make me cry, isn't it?"

"I was hoping it would be romantic," Neville admitted. "But if it's too soon, I understand. You and Stella were close."

It was true. Pansy _missed_ Stella. But... "No. I'm done being afraid. I'm done saying I can't handle it. I'm never going to say that again."

"Good for you, Pancake," he leaned in and kissed her. A soft, lingering kiss that made her toes curl.

"Better stop doing that," she whispered against his lips. "Or we'll never make it there."

Neville twirled her around once before tugging her into a secure hold, activating the Portkey and taking her away. Usually she would have flailed unattractively and lost her balance. Not this time.

He kept her upright and on her feet until they appeared on a high hill, overlooking a picture perfect Highland Summer. Rolling green hills split by a singing creak paralleled an old walk way, one Neville led her down without another word.

"It's so beautiful here," she said, slightly out of breath from trying to keep up with him. "Stella never said anything about coming to Scotland after they left Boston..."

"Gus told me when we were at The Brotherhood. I didn't realize at the time what he was talking about, because you know, so much was going on. When he convinced Hugh to let us loose, he did it by promising the location of the diamonds they stole."

"You can't mean..."

He released her hand when the walk way came up on a grove. A patch of trees made a wide circle where thick green grass waved peacefully in the wind. Dashing over to the biggest of the trees, Neville began pressing into the bark, seemingly searching for something.

"He never intended to tell Hugh where the loot was, but if he had to, he planned to leave out one bit of very, very important information..." He found a notch and pressed in.

Before their very eyes a small wooden cottage appeared in the grove. The roof was pointed and the windows were big and round. The door a dark red color surrounded by flowers that could've been picked that very morning. A banner across the front said, _Welcome Home Augustus and Stella_.


	55. Chapter 55

"They look incredible together and I'm really, really happy for them." - _Hannah to Susan as they both dabbed their eyes after the ceremony_.

Neville picked her up like the bride she was and carried her over the threshold, making her giggle as she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling special in her wedding dress. He nuzzled her cheek for a moment, breathing in the scent of lemons and paints.

The inside of the cabin looked straight out of the 1950's. Two rooms, a front living space and kitchen and a bedroom in the back. Mint green cabinets lined one wall cut off mid way by an open faced shelf that held glass dishes in nearly every pastel color. A curved sofa split the rest of the room and faced a turntable surrounded by dozens of records. Through the door on the opposite side of the room, they could just see the frill of a white quilt comforter turned down.

Fresh rose petals spread out all over the room.

"Oh Goddesses, Nev," Pansy buried her head into his neck after recognizing that bed. "This is where he proposed to her."

"And where they were going to spend their wedding night..." Nev carried her through the door, closing it with his foot, and all the way to the bedroom.

"I don't know if I can stay here," she admitted, still pressing her face into his neck. "I feel so much guilt for never giving them their reunion. They spent 50 years stuck in those bracelets and once they were free, _we_ were the ones who kept them from being together. It's horrible. They died protecting us. Protecting me."

"Aww, Pancakes," he sat her on the bed and knelt down before her. "They aren't trapped in those bracelets any longer. And they could've told us."

True but... "They just wanted a night together."

"I knew you were a bit of a freak, Pancake, you wanted a foursome with me and two ghosts, admit it."

Pansy gripped the front of his jacket and pulled him forward roughly. "I'm a virgin, remember? Something I screamed at you in the middle of the night."

"My ears are _still_ ringing, matter of fact."

She channeled her best accent to imitate Stella. "I'll give your ears a reason to ring, Mr. Longbottom."

"Mrs. Longbottom," he surged forward and captured her lips in a kiss. Something that kept getting better the more they did it. "We can go anywhere you want, as long as I can be alone with you."

Looking around, she took in the flowing white drapes over the round windows. The wooden furniture that hadn't been touched in decades. Rose petals that made the air smell fresh and fragrant. Her hand brushed through the velvety petals and found a yellowed envelope.

"What's this?" she pulled it from where it half hid beneath one of the pillows. As it was addressed to Gus in curvy script, she handed it over to Neville without opening it.

"What? You want me to read it? No way, I'll ball like a baby. I'm a big crier, Pancake, I swear. I cry all the time."

"I'm not going to open it, _I'll_ cry like a baby!" she insisted, trying to shove it into his hands. "I cry a lot too."

"Ugghhh," he took it, reluctantly, and came up onto the bed beside her. He was rubbish with crying women. And he had the feeling when he saw Pansy cry for the first time, he was going to cry right along with her. And possibly get violent with whoever made her cry. With a wince, he peeled the letter open. "Hmm. Well, it's not from Stella."

Pansy peeked at the letter over Nev's shoulder and read the tiny lines. "His cousin... _Nicholas Barley_."

It was too much.

Pansy laid back on the bed, hair mixing with the petals and thoughts on the ghost who saved her life. Who defended her against Hugh, got her out of that dungeon, and ultimately... put her in the position to fall in love.

Neville laid down next to her, taking her hand and reading out loud a bit of the letter.

"' _Cousin, try not to get into too much more trouble tonight, the world is not ready for miniature versions of that wife of yours_.'" Neville laughed, setting the letter on the bedside table. "That's where the bracelets and the furniture came from. Barley Estate... damn, I sucked at this bad, Pancake. I thought this would be romantic."

He turned on his side to look down at her, catching two silver orbs peering back. A little watery than they were before.

"I'm laying in my wedding dress, in a bed full of rose petals, in a Scottish cottage no one in the world knows exists, with my husband. I don't know what you were aiming for, but I think you ticked the romance box, Neville."

Grinning, Neville settled in beside her until they were nose to nose. They kicked off their shoes and rubbed their toes together, laughing and chatting about everything and anything. Talking for hours and making plans.

"I don't think I've said this yet," she started softly. "But I want you to know... that I think you are a really, truly incredible man for what you did for me, Neville."

He lifted his hand slowly, fingers intimately caressing her neck and jaw. "Hold me to that standard. I don't want to be anything less for you."

Remembering he once told her a real man doesn't coerce, he entices, he gently ran his thumb along the column of her neck, watching her carefully to see which spots made her react.

When he cupped her jaw and ran a thumb over her bottom lip, she sucked in a sharp breath, eyes blinking rapidly.

"There is that..." she swallowed to clear her throat. " _That_ thing newlyweds do on their wedding night..."

"A thing we'll do when you're ready, Pancakes," he assured her, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin under his touch. "I told you, I just want to be alone with you tonight. No cults. No ghosts. No bodyguards—"

"Hey," she poked his side playfully. "I don't have bodyguards anymore."

"Yesssss! Thank the Goddesses," he shouted dramatically, hopping up on the bed. He started jumping up and down. "Woo-hoo! No more bodyguards! No more getting hit in the bloody head!"

"Nev! Ha ha!" Pansy bounced on the mattress as he jumped, rose petals tossing alongside with her. She found her footing and stood up straight, taking his hands and jumping in time with him. The frame started squeaking with their combined weight. "What if we break the bed?"

"I knew you had plans for tonight," he grinned and tugged her in closer, one last hop making her gasp. Pulled flush against his chest, Neville leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss against her forehead.

"No ghosts either," she said, relishing in the new sensations of his affection. Who knew such a sweet kiss could make her feel so warm?

"And no bloody cults," he said, fingers spreading across her back. "No more of them. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Which reminded him... "I'm beyond shocked you agreed to marry me."

"I'm beyond shocked you asked," she wrapped her fingers into his jacket, wanting more kisses. "I've spent a lot of my life feeling unwanted. And then you came along and protected me, you bought those paints, and built that altar for me. I knew the moment you asked what the answer was—no ghostly guidance needed."

Pansy lifted up on her tip toes and initiated her own kiss, enjoying the feel of his smile against her lips. A kiss that lingered and invited more. She placed her hands on his shoulders, trying to pull him in closer.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up, deepening the kiss in the same movement. Stepping off the bed, he held her tenderly and showed it with his slow kiss, his arms firmly circling her waist. Pansy wrapped her arms around his neck and found they fit perfectly together, kissing and swaying together in an ambling dance that seemed to never end.

Eventually pulling away for air, and finding the sun was beginning to set, they continued to rock them back and forth slowly. They didn't need music to dance. "No," she gave him a dazzling smile. "Not romantic at all."

"What a dreadful husband I make," Neville agreed. He backed up, looking a bit dazed as he released her, and pulled from his pocket his wand. He used it to light the oil lamp on the small table by the bed. It cast a dim glow across the bed and made shadows with the rose petals.

When he turned to Pansy, she decided to be brave and give him her back, pulling her hair over her shoulder. "Do you want to kiss some more?"

Stepping forward, Neville leaned down and kissed her neck. Warm, soft lips pressed into her skin right below the ear, making her gasp. He noted the exact place so he could do it again later. "Let me just... check the property first. I don't want to get interrupted like we did last time."

"Don't take too long," she peered at him over her shoulder, fingers smoothing out her hair. "I'm enjoying our time together."

"Are you trying to kill me?" he groaned, placing both hands over his heart.

"No, never." She continued looking at him over her shoulder, eyes lit up like the moon and mischievous like the night. "Nearly two months you, Stella, and Gus spent trying to seduce me. I might have picked up a thing or two..."

Neville held up his finger. "Hold on to that thought, I'll be right back."

He went quickly, but didn't rush so much that he might miss something. He _needed_ to make sure Pansy was safe, checking that the ward was in place to keep the house hidden. He walked around the grove twice to make sure no one was lying in wait and found nothing but quiet grass and trees.

When he came back to the bedroom several minutes later, he found Pansy standing at the window with her back to him, the last rays of sunlight lighting up her face. He removed his jacket and placed his wand right by the bed. Then he came to stand behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing up and down.

"No one will interrupt us," he assured her.

"Good," she breathed out, and lifted her hands up, pulling the silken gloves from her fingers one at time. "Unzip me?"

Grinning, Neville continued rubbing her bare shoulders. Sliding his fingers across her back, he came to the top of her dress and undid the small, hidden hook there. Then he gently pulled the zipper downwards, past the band of her bra and all the way down her spine to the small curve of her lower back. He watched goosebumps break out across the pale of her skin and he paused.

"Okay, Pancake?"

"Yes," she shivered in anticipation. She wasn't scared in the least. "Keep going."

"With your permission," he spread his fingers out over her shoulders and pushed the lacy straps of her dress down her arms. Undressing her with care.

Pansy stared out the window, but she didn't really see anything, too focused on Neville's hands and the way he moved them. On the lingering warmth they left as he dragged them down her arms, pushing her dress down with unwavering tenderness.

She gasped as the silk of her dress bunched at her waist.

Revealing her bralette to him. If she had known she would be getting married, she might've dug around her closet for a sexier bra. As it was, he would have to deal with her plain gray cotton.

But of course, he didn't seem to have a problem with it at all. The hand on her right shoulder came around and cupped the left side of her face, turning her head to look at him. His front pressed into her back as he tilted her face up and leaned in to kiss her.

This one far more heated than any of the previous kisses. His other hand came around and pressed into her lower stomach, digging into the silk of her dress, pulling her closer as his tongue parted her lips and slid into her mouth sweetly. Feeling intimate and different and wonderful all at the same time.

She speared her fingers through his dark hair and kissed him until they were both dizzy. Until he turned her around at the waist so she faced him. Not sure what to do with her hands, she lifted them up and began undoing his tie. And when she felt him smiling while they kissed, she knew she'd done something right.

Then she remembered something Stella said. Sex was supposed to be fun. Heart pumping, silly, can't get enough _fun_. With that in mind, she pulled the tie from underneath his collar with a snap, making him laugh.

"Glad that's gone. Remember this, because today is the only day you'll ever see me in a tie," he informed her, crowding her against the window. She expected the glass to feel cold but instead it felt soothing against her heated skin.

"Not surprised," she started unbuttoning his shirt as he started kissing her cheeks. And her jaw. And her neck underneath her ears. A place that made her suck in a breath every time. "Don't think I've seen you in a button up before either."

"Nope," he palmed the back of her head, tilting it to the side to get better access to her neck. "Drove Gus mad most days. He's the dapper type."

"I prefer your t-shirts," she admitted in a breathy voice, still trying to undo buttons and not get lost in his barrage of kisses. "And I'm mad, mad, _mad_ at that Hannah Abbott for making you brush your beard."

"Mmm, fix it," he mumbled as he kissed up her neck, forcing her head back.

Rushing through the remaining buttons, she pushed his shirt aside right before digging fingers through his beard, messing it up at the same time he rose up and captured her lips in another kiss.

Pinning her against the window and overwhelming her with skin to skin contact. Her chest pushed up against his, glass at her back, firm hands in her hair and he lifted her up under her thighs.

"Oh Goddesses, Nev," she gasped. "This is fun..."

"Good," he secured his hold on her legs and walked to the bed, splaying her out over the rose petals. So careful with every movement. "Don't run away, Pancake."

Neville stood above her, beard and hair mussed, shrugging out of his shirt slowly enough to draw her eye. Ohh... his shirt.

Pansy came up on her elbows to watch, not at all feeling exposed though she was only in her bra and panties. "One time. I ran away _one time_. I've never seen a naked man before, what did you expect?"

His eyebrows went up.

"And you know that day... you were... _sweaty_ ," she reminded him, grinning and thinking of the day she broke his plaque and the first time they really started to bump heads.

"Does that make a difference?" he smirked as if he didn't know any better, crawling onto the bed beside her.

"What about your jeans?" she asked, grabbing onto his shoulders as he pulled her on top of him. Her hair fell to the side, cascading down her shoulder between them.

"We'll get there," he promised, looking up at her, guiding her knees to settle on either side of his hips. Creating new sensations, hard denim against her bare thighs. Firm shoulders underneath her hands. "What's this? You got this at The Brotherhood?"

He pushed her knee out only slightly, enough to bring the birthmark on her inner thigh to light. It seemed even darker in the dim light of the oil lamp. More like a scarlet than the usual dusty pink.

"No, no," she shook her head. "Birthmark. I've had it forever. Promise."

He ran his thumb up and down over the red splotch. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

No. In fact, she discovered exactly how sensitive it felt when he was touching it so lovingly.

"Yep," she lied. Badly. "All the time. Have to massage it daily for any relief."

He didn't buy it for a second but the pressure of his strokes increased, up and down her inner thigh. Wanting to drive her crazy and absolutely delighted to find another spot that made her gasp.

Which she did loudly when he pushed his thumb all the way up to the top of her inner thigh. "I thought that... the dreams we shared would dull my experience... my first time," she admitted, completely out of breath. "But this feels wholly new. Better even."

"It's new to me too," he reminded her, wrapping his hands around the backs of her thighs, continuing to rub his fingers up and down, dragging her a little closer. Until she settled lower, straddling him.

Trembling as damp panties pushed against the hard ridge of his jeans that did nothing to hide the evidence of his arousal, she paused to take in the new sensations. As warm tingles made her body flush. Dizzying pleasure sent her forward, until their fronts pressed together and she was sliding her hands upwards, through his beard and into his hair.

"Feels so good," she whispered, leaning in for a kiss and pleased at how it felt to rub her breasts against his hard chest, her cotton bra adding even more sensation. His hands moved up the back of her thighs and palmed her cheeks over the panties, fingers digging into her ass as he pushed her against his jeans.

Causing her to gasp and tremble with pleasure. He paused, waiting for her to come down from her cloud before he repeated the motion. Rocking her against him with a slow, hard motion. Her fingers, still buried in his hair, gripped hard enough to make him gasp.

"Like that, Pancake?" he asked, squeezing her ass again.

"Yes," she sucked in quick, short breaths. "Can we get more naked?"

"Hell yeah we can," he said, excited, and brought his hands up to the back of her bra as she continued to rock against him. Undoing the hooks one at a time as she reached between them to pull at the button of his jeans.

"I meant you, silly," she laughed, pulling at his zipper a little too quickly.

"WHOA!" he quickly flipped them over, pushing her arms above her head. "There's such a thing as over eager!"

Coming up on his knees, he brought his hands to his partially undone zipper and gave her a playful glare. Pansy followed him up a bit, coming onto her elbows and glaring right back. "I wouldn't hurt you. _Husband_."

The passionate way she called him that... it sent trembles all through his body and hastened his movements to undress. Pushing down his jeans quickly and showing Pansy he was a boxer brief kind of guy.

She looked down at him, biting her lip before she turned her gaze upwards. While he watched, she finished unhooking her bra and removed it slowly, pulling it off her arms and laying back for him.

He blinked rapidly, taking three big gulps of air before he rushed to pull off his underwear, movements frantic.

"Hey," she teased. "There's such a thing as over eager."

"I'm going to show you over eager," he laughed, tossing his briefs in the air behind him and surging forward, grabbing onto the sides of her panties. He pulled them down as they both laughed and threw them with the same motion he did his own underwear.

Then he was wrapping his arms around her and tangling their legs together, both completely naked and breathless from laughing. He rolled them over until he was on top of her again, fingers buried in her hair, kissing her deeply, and bending her knee up to make room for himself between her legs.

"Are you ready, Pancake?" he asked against her lips.

"Maybe," she dug one hand into his back, the other was in his hair, trying to pull him closer.

"Maybe?" he teased, sliding the hand on her knee up her leg, coming to her inner thigh. And higher. Until two fingers were sliding between wet folds and making her shiver with pleasure. It wasn't like the dreams they once shared. Her and Neville were sharing something totally new.

"Maybe!" she shouted into his kiss, moaning as he parted her with slow, sweet strokes from his fingers. Until she was slick and panting, and he moved up ever so slightly until he found the little nub of nerves that made her scream out loud. He pushed against it over and over until her nails broke into his skin and she buried her head into his neck, shouting out her pleasure in time with his movements.

He nuzzled the side of her face, bringing his hand back to her knee and allowing her the time to come down. "I got you," he mumbled, pressing kisses wherever he could as she relaxed minute by minute into the bed. "I got you, _wife_."

Then she blinked up at him, fuzzy and happy for it. She leaned up and kissed him full on the mouth, wrapping her legs around his waist. "I'm ready."

.

Pansy woke up a few hours later, the scent of roses in her nose as she lay on her stomach. The moonlight streamed through the window and illuminated a bare ass swaying side to side on the other side of the room. He was looking for something, and humming happily as he did.

"I didn't know there was a full moon tonight," she yawned, but otherwise didn't move.

She _couldn't_ move. Her muscles were sore in a way she never experienced before. Instead, she pulled a pillow closer and watched Neville turn around. Still completely nude.

"Well, all I could find was _your_ panties," he said, nodding to the side of the bed. She looked to the bedside table and saw the oil lamp was dark, but right in front of it sat her cotton panties. "Didn't think I should try to get into them."

But it would hysterical if he did.

"What are you up-up-up to?" she yawned again. But smiled. She felt _good_.

"Looking for diamonds of course."

Pansy laughed out loud. "I forgot about them entirely."

"Not sure why I want to find them," he told her, searching behind the dresser with his wand lit up. "The jeweler they robbed closed twenty years ago. Heh."

Neville found his briefs and pulled them on, popping his wand between his teeth as he did. It was kind of cute. "Tried summoning them but nada. Maybe Gus lied. Maybe they aren't here."

"Come back to bed," she spoke softly. "I'll help you look for them tomorrow."

He darkened his wand and did as she asked, coming to her side of the bed. He sat on the edge and started rubbing her bare back, dragging finger nails up and down her skin.

She blew out a breath. "Oh my... that feels amazing."

"You're amazing," he told her. "Thank you for being with me last night."

"Thank you for being with _me_ ," she smiled back. "I feel... properly seduced."

They spent a few minutes making googly eyes at each other before they heard a slight hum and then the strum of a guitar. A smooth voice reached their ears from the living room, the record player turning out music they both recognized.

"Uhm," Pansy gulped. "Did you do that, Nev?"

"Nope," he stood up, wand at the ready and stalked into the living room in only his briefs.

Pansy sat up and immediately grabbed her wand, lighting up the oil lamp, and prepared to follow him... except he was backing up back into the bedroom. "Whoa!"

"Nev! What's happening?" she jumped up, stark naked.

Then she heard laughter, big infectious laughter. Stella appeared as a wispy ghost, swooping down in front of Neville and forcing him back until he sat on the bed. Transparency didn't damper her dark green eyes and curly blonde hair, pinned back. She wore her wedding dress, flowing satin all the way down to her heels.

Leaning in, Stella placed a ghostly kiss on the tip of Neville's nose. "Now, now, darlin'. I've been _waitin'_ to see you without any clothes, Mr. Longbottom. Lemme get a good at ya. _Mmmmm mmmmmm_!"

"Stella?" Neville's eyes went completely round.

"Stella!" Pansy shouted. "You're here?!"

"I'm here, honey," Stella winked at them. As a ghost.

A real ghost. Not a spirit inhabiting their body. Not possessing her. An honest to Goddess ghost.

Stella's big eyes dipped down and back up Pansy's naked body, a wide smirk stretching her cheeks. "And it seems we've missed all the fun, didn't we Gus? What a downright shame."

After her words, Gus appeared in the space next to Stella, wrapping a ghostly arm around Stella's waist. "Ms. Parkinson," he nodded, pointedly not looking.

Neville stood, grabbing the quilt from the bed and wrapping it around Pansy quickly, sending rose petals everywhere.

"That's _Mrs. Longbottom_ , to you buddy," he told Gus sharply.

"Oh my word!" Stella shouted, floating up in excitement. "They did it, Gus! _They got married! Hallelujah!_ What's that she says all the time?"

Gus smirked, his lips tilting the same direction Stella's did. "'Thank the Goddesses'," he reminded her.

"Thank the Goddesses!" Stella shouted, her accent thicker than ever. "We did it, Gus. We got them together."

"Their marriage likely broke the curse, Stella-bug. They did we what couldn't."

"I thought the curse was broken at The Brotherhood?" Neville frowned. "When that Killing Curse hit Pansy's bracelet."

"It felt like death... _again_." Stella looked up to Gus, puckering her lips in the biggest frown. "But now..."

She turned serious between one blink of her deep green eyes. "Now, Gus and I can truly move on and be together. The one thing we truly wanted. Thank you, both. You've reunited us."

Gus lowered his head, his hair slicked back and suit looking freshly pressed. "Thank you."

"We didn't do anything," Neville said, pulling Pansy to his side. "We should be thanking you."

"That's true," Pansy said with a smile. She never once believed love could last between two people. But Gus and Stella proved her wrong. "For saving my life and forcing us together. Is there anything we can do for you two? Before you … move on?"

Stella looked between her and Gus, to Neville. "Might be one more thing..."

She floated forward, ghostly hands suddenly seeming solid as they grabbed onto Neville's shoulders and pulled him in for a big smooch on the lips.

"HEY!" Pansy shouted.

"Stella," Gus drawled in a chiding tone.

"Ahh," Stella shook Nev, who looked downright stunned. "You take care of my Pansy girl, ya hear, Longbottom?"

Then she winked and floated back into Gus's arms. The two twirled together in a ghostly dance before they began fading away, lost in each other's eyes.

"Hey wait!" Pansy shouted after them as they slowly disappeared. "Where are the diamonds?"

"Spend a little more time in bed with that stud, babydoll," Stella's voice whispered through the air. "If you find 'em, you can keep 'em!"

And then it was just Pansy and Neville. Alone. And together.


	56. Chapter 56

"You mean to tell me... you married a long-haired hippie who worships _Antheia_? Antheia! Of all the useless Goddesses... and you want to plant an orchard behind Longbottom Keep so she can make... did you say jam?" - _Augusta in absolute disbelief to a smug Neville._

A few more days they spent in bed and Pansy ended up noticing a hidden compartment in the headboard. When she opened it, about a hundred diamonds in all sorts of shapes and sizes fell out across the bed. And Stella's engagement ring.

An oval shaped diamond surrounded by four smaller diamonds and set in a gold band.

Obviously stolen.

But the jeweler Gus and Stella robbed went out of business decades ago, and there were no living relatives—from the jeweler or Stella and Gus.

About a week after the Higgly-Hughes settled, Draco referred to Hermione as his friend and shocked the hell out of Pansy. She nearly choked to death after hearing such a thing. But then it made her happy to know Draco had room in his heart to make new friends. The two of them ended up working together often, and with great success.

For two years after they tied the knot, Neville took Pansy around the world. Traveling to every city in every country they possibly could, trying the food and drink and seeing all the sights. They tried every coffee drink they came across and took a million pictures. Every one of the photos showing a happy, in love couple.

Then they came home to Longbottom Keep and got to work.

One morning, over breakfast, Neville slipped Stella's ring onto her finger when she wasn't looking. She had jam on, she wasn't paying attention to her husband of all people.

"Wait, wait!" she called as he walked out the back door, going to work. "I told you I didn't want a ring!"

"Stella would want you to have it," he grinned at her, beard messy and eyes lit up like the sun. "And I gotta do something to get Gran off my back! She's convinced you bespelled me, which makes no sense whatsoever. You're the talent, the brains, and the one with all the money."

"Our money! We're _married_. Remember? You wore a tie!" Pansy laughed as the kitchen door swung shut. She looked down at the ring. It looked like Stella. Big, extravagant, loud. And it fit her finger perfectly. Sometimes she missed that annoying ghost.

"And you're the one who does all the work!" she called out through the window over the sink. She really enjoyed yelling at him. Yelling led to fighting. Fighting led to making up. Making up led to fun bedroom activities they both enjoyed.

They sold off a few of the diamonds and used the money to turn the property Longbottom Keep sat on into a massive orchard. They grew all sorts of fruits from blackberries to blueberries to raspberries to apricots and apples and plums and rhubarb. Keeping his word, Neville planted a whole row of lemon and lime trees for her.

And he loved tending to the grounds.

Pansy used the yield to get her jam on. They named their brand 'Zealot Jams' and laughed a _lot_ about it, even though no one else seemed to find it funny in the least.

Neville took some of the diamonds and made bracelets for Hannah, Ginny, and Susan. Who came over for dinner at least once a week. Most times Gerry came along, and requested saffron sauce 9 times out of 10.

Banana and Neville remained really good friends who ate a lot of chocolate together and there was never any hard feelings of how quickly Nev got married after their breakup. They both learned they were better as friends anyways. But it didn't stop him from going a little over-protective when Gerry proposed to Hannah.

The hit Neville took to the head only hurt a little.

Uncle Algie came over for Christmas dinner every year for the sole purpose of picking a religious fight with the Goddess worshiping heathens. It was the only time him and his gran ever agreed on anything. And whenever Erasmus was bugging them, Nev would whip out a picture of Hannah Banana and watch the old coot squirm uncomfortably.

Neville built her a huge studio with an attic fan and constantly brought her copious amounts of glass and paints for her to play with. In many ways, her life was the same it was before Neville. She spent most of her day making jam or making stained glass. But now she had a fun-loving husband to help her do it on a bigger scale. Pushing her out of her comfort zone and maxing out her potential.

Mattie came over all the time, for jam. She needed the comfort food to distract her from her bad habits. And she wanted to torment Neville. Eventually the two of them came to a sort of equilibrium but it took years.

Wayne and his family came by to visit often. His kids loved Aunt Pansy and Uncle Neville and they loved playing in the orchards and all the fresh fruit they could steal.

One day, Pansy framed and hung up the pictures of Stella and Gus in the formal living room which was slowly turning into a living photo album. She was still watching the old photograph, Stella and Gus smirking at each other, when Neville wandered into the room.

"Heya Pancake," he tugged her into a hug, lifting her up off her feet. Making her squeal with delight. "I had an idea."

"Uh oh," she teased, pretending to check his head. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"Hardy har," he bounced her playfully. "Why don't you make a window of your parents for this room?"

They looked to the window she did, her gift to Neville, of Alice and Frank Longbottom who gave them a sweet wave.

"Neville... Tav Parkinson was a Death Eater when he was alive, are you sure you want a memorial to him in our home?"

He kept bouncing, clearly full of energy. Oh yeah. He'd had a _lot_ of coffee that morning in preparation for a big harvest. He spoke fast and energetically. "He's your _father_. I want you to have a special place to see your parents, like we have mine. Your parents loved you no matter what. Just like mine. If we ever have kids, I want them to know that. Okay, I gotta go, I'm super busy and I can't wait to see you at dinner!"

Then he rushed out of the room. Rushed back in and gave her a helluva kiss. Then rushed away just as quickly.

"Idiot," she called after him, having to find her footing and smiling like a fool in love. They were beyond happy together. Happy enough she and Neville returned to the Highland cottage every year on their anniversary.

Once a month, Pansy went and met Mrs. Grant for tea and got her ear chatted off. She couldn't thank the woman enough for sending the bracelet that led to her marrying Neville.

Harry got promoted at work and made sure The Brotherhood of the Chosen _never_ rose from the ashes. Sometimes Pansy had nightmares about the night she spent at The Brotherhood. Of what she did. But she always woke up in the warmth of Neville's arms listening to his silly impression of Stella's accent and soft murmurs of comfort that reminded her she was safe. She had Neville.

And she could take care of herself.

Between it all, they had a lot of help in shaping the life they had together. So much had to happen for the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom to get together. They made sure to be thankful that it happened the way it did. They wanted to make the same kind of difference for others so it wasn't hard to donate the majority of the money they got from the diamonds and their hard work. Especially to the local orphanage, who got a massive donation every year in Stella and Gus's name.

And jam.

A lot of jam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fun facts about this fic:
> 
> Thought about having Pansy possessed by Gus and Neville by Stella but ultimately wanted a strong female figure for Pansy to learn from.
> 
> Also thought about straight killing Erasmus, but I wanted to write a fic where I didn't kill off characters willy-nilly. (apologies to any of my spellthief followers)
> 
> Definitely wanted to write a fic where Hannah Abbott wasn't the bad guy.
> 
> Mattie, Susie, and Hannah definitely lead a secret life as Charlie's Angels. Change my mind.
> 
> I learned how to make jam in the process of the fic. Pectin in fruit is what makes it thick. If you boil it for too long you can make candy. Both of these things I like. Mmm.
> 
> Pansy's vows are loosely based on my own vows that I won't get to use because my wedding has been canceled due to the Covid-19 pandemic. I'd like to dedicate this fic to everyone whose lives have been turned upside due to the events of the world and hope you are all being safe.
> 
> Literally could not find a place for my man Ron Weasley anywhere in this fic, so I really am going to go write a nice story for him in apology.


End file.
